


Cuddle and Bonding Time with Bobby Singer

by yunguyen10



Category: Supernatural
Genre: All the shithead angels are mischievous little shits, But he's trying, Confused Bobby, Cute Lucifer, Gabriel Being Gabriel, Jealous Crowley, Lucifer is good, Lucifer then decided to redeem himself, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sassy Balthazar, Slow Build, So basically Lucifer did got out of the cage, This takes place right after season 6, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, also a lot of crack ship, and he is a bit rough around the edges at certain aspects, because Leviathans are stupid and Bobby Singer did not die, because he finally see the good parts of humanity and earth, but he didn't want to go through with the apocalypse, everyone loves Bobby, he is a good noodle, he's still learning about humanity and things, in this au, lots of fluffs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2018-10-27 18:46:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10814628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yunguyen10/pseuds/yunguyen10
Summary: Bobby usually doesn't get much love nor appreciation. He's tired, but doesn't bring it up and no one bothered to ask. With the Apocalypse undone, Dean and Sam now have more time to do what they want. After taking a case and making an unlikely ally, they began to let themselves see the perils their surrogate father went through everyday, and realizes that they too have taken Bobby for granted. With this, Sam and Dean are determined to let the older hunter knows how much they appreciate him and what he does for them and others. And what better way to do it than to give him cuddles and random display of affection out of nowhere? Eventually, Sam and Dean's friends caught onto their behavior, and they too have joined in on the wagon.Mix in a couple of angels and demons and other supernatural creatures, and things started to get weird and confusing for Bobby.





	1. In Which There Were A Lot of Mixed Feelings, Also Dean and Sam

**Author's Note:**

> Because Bobby needs more loving. And I got inspired by a prompt and a fic I saw. Here's to good times and cuddles! This is only the intro chapter, so not much snuggling will occur. But I do hope you like what I have planned! Some chapters will be a continuation of previous ones, but some will be solos or one shot and have no correlations with previous ones!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean encounters a little problem. Awkwardness ensues. Also, Bobby thinks he's starting to like Crowley. Is that normal? No. Definitely not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's an OC of mine in here, and he might or might not have the hots for papa bear, lol. Enjoy! Also, forgive any grammar mistakes, I'll come back to fix it when I can!

It wasn't that Bobby didn't like his job. 

No, in fact, he loved it. Well, not exactly. Love was a strong word. To be more correct, he tolerated it. After theseconddeath of his wife, he finds that sticking his nose to his work really do good on distracting him from the painful fact that he had to kill Karen twice. He didn't necessarily love his job, but it gave him what he needed. Something to keep him busy; distracted. Plus, he sort of enjoyed helping people. Even if they're all a bunch of ungrateful little shits that doesn't know what to do with the information that was given to them unless it smacked them right across their faces.

Many people say that ' _time heals all wounds_ ', and that was one of the most bullshit, crappy-ass, corny statement he has ever heard in the many decades that he have lived. Time doesn't heal wounds; it makes it fade away. But it was still there, and it stings like a bitch every time that something or someone grazed it. Of course, he could just ignore it like he always does. But it was hard when the faded wound turned into a scar. Sometimes, at random moments, it wandered itself into his vision, sticking out like a sore thumb as it reminded him that it exists. That he can't get rid of it. It will always be a part of him. Even though he can't feel it anymore, he knows it's there. And by being reminded that it exists, he'll be reminded of  _why_ it exists. 

If Bobby was being honest to himself, he was getting really tired.

He was tired of everything. Tired of feeling like he wasn't safe in his own house, of being startled at the smallest of noises that kept him up at night. Tired of waking up at four AM in the morning with tears in his eyes, choking on his own breath at the memories of Karen's pale face and bittersweet smile as she held onto his calloused hands, softly telling him to quickly end her life with a bullet of his gun. Tired of waking up feeling like he went through World War II, not remembering what happened the previous night until he has to scramble out of his bed with barely enough time to not vomit on himself as his hangover hits him like a moving train in one of NYC's cramped up subway.

Most of all, he was tired of his job.

He wasn't as young as he was used to be. Though he is more than capable go out for huntsand damn if he can't make quick work out of those crocottas and Okami, Bobby finds himself being glued to the chair in his office, taking calls from about two thousands different individual a day, whether hunters not knowing how to deal with a banshee or police officers wishing to clarify a few things with the FBI. It wasn't that Bobby hated his job, he just... 

Sometimes, what he did for these selfish and ignorant idjits? It felt like the most unrewarding and underappreciated job in the universe.

Of course, Bobby doesn't want nor is expecting any reward for what he is doing. Someone's gotta do it. And whoever is doing it should be someone who's been in the game for a long time and not some snot-nosed kid that got cocky after a few successful ghost hunt. However, a reward for him doesn't necessarily mean some three-to-five-number-digits printed on green and white paper, nor ' _I'll be forever in debt to you, Bobby! Here's my family heirloom._ '. All that Bobby ever really want was that: At the end of one of the thousands of calls he gets a day, he was hoping that he could at least get a 'thank you' or an 'I really appreciate your help, Bobby'. But of course, that doesn't happen as often as he'd like. 

At best, his callers will mutter a small ' _thanks, Bobby_ ' when he was done helping them; sometimes, in those rare occasions, they'll show up in person and dropped in one of those ten years old liquor that he still has stacked in his liquor cabinet. At worst, they'll start complaining and bitching to him about the many things that went wrong then  _blaming_ him because they fucked up a perfectly clear instruction. Not only did he not receive gratitude, he also doesn't get any appreciation for what he does. Damn, he never hesitates to pull his folks' asses out of the fire, and he never once refused to get out of the house to help out on a hunt. Need instructions on how to deal with a buruburu? No problem, Bobby has that information just at the top of his head that he has no trouble bringing up. A mysterious murder, mostly due to supernatural forces occurred, and the local police began to question about your suspicious 'FBI' activities? No problem, Agent Willis got ya covered; just ring him up, then keep calm and carry on.

Despite everything, what does he get for helping these ungrateful sons-of-bitches? _Jack_ with a side of _squat_. 

Those were the days that Bobby wished he can just magically make himself disappear. That can be arranged, of course. Though Bobby would never actually do or go along with itbecause there were too many idjits out there that can't survive five seconds without blowing up his phone to ask for his help, you can't blame a man for his wishful thinking. 

Today was one of the usual days. Just Bobby on the phone, occasionally directing hunters from all over America on locations to certain objects, where one might find Pablo Santo, or how to deal with ghouls, et cetera et cetera. Nothing too arduous or special.

It was currently ten PM, and Bobby let out a yawn so big and extended that it made him feel lightheaded a little when it ended. He looked around at his work area, and his eyes landed on his cup of coffee that has undoubtedly become cold by now. Bobby considered picking it up and taking a sip from it because he doesn't like to waste things, but he sighed and shook his head. There was no way he was going to drink naturally cold coffee. And since leaving the cup there might result in him knocking it over at some point, Bobby stood upwith great hesitationfrom his desk, sliding his chair away and taking the cup of coffee with him as he makes his way to the sink. 

The moment he stood up, Bobby almost staggered back onto the seat as a wave of fatigue and dizziness hit him. Placing a hand on his forehead, Bobby squeezed his eyes shut as he gritted his teeth together. At the same time, his stomach decides to give out a groan that eerily resembled a dying narwhal. 

_Right_. Bobby forgot that he hasn't slept for the past two days, and all that he stomached was a bottle of rotgut, half a cup of coffee, and some leftover sushi that Bobby doesn't even know that existed within his refrigerator until two days ago. 

_Eh... I'll eat after Sam and Dean phoned in. As far as I'm concerned, they probably will need some back up against that witch..._ Bobby thought with a small grumble. About a week ago, the Winchesters took a case somewhere in Virginia where there were reports of people randomly exploding in public, only to discover that the victims' corpses had hex bags hidden within their clothes. It seems that all the witch's targets shared a common thing: All of them are an apprentice of  _another_ witch. Some bad blood, it seems. Bobby asked Dean how the hell did they managed to find out since witches aren't exactly _friendly_ and are extremely tight lipped about their own business. 

It turns out that the witch, the one with the apprentices, _came_ to Dean and Sam to ask for protection from the one hunting him. Sounds funny, doesn't it? But apparently, the guy was dead serious about it. His name was Gwydion LaCroix. Yes,  _that_ LaCroix. Gwydion was Lance LaCroix's great great great great grandfather. Due to magic and witchcraft, the guy managed to stay alive for over five hundred years. During the time, he made himself some enemies, not knowing that they held a strong grudge against him and that they'll come for his ass in the future. 

Of course, who would be stupid enough to put their own ass on the line for a witch? However, Gwydion did offer them means of killing the witchwho was named Tia Dalma, a very old and powerful witch herself, assistance for the confrontation,  _and_ he will reward them with quite some amount of money for finishing the job. It all sounded too good to be true, but so far, Gwydion hasn't done anything for them to not trust him. Although the guy is a witch, he hasn't really committed anything in the past few decades that would make himself a danger to the people around him. There was no record or evidence that has anything to do with the guy, and since they really need to stop that other witch before she blows up some other poor bastards that don't know what they're getting into, Dean and Sam had reluctantly taken Gwydion in and hid him away from Tia. 

Three days ago, they contacted Bobby and asked him about certain ingredients that are essential to killing the witch. Bobby questioned as to why they have asked him if they already know what it is and what to do with it. Sam said that Gwydion only knows what can kill Tia Dalma and how, not the location of the items itself; plus, Gwydion can't afford to make any purchases or transactions at the moment, and the Winchesters were a bit short on money.

After pulling a couple of strings, a great deal of eye-rolling from Bobby, and some... other shady activities, Bobby managed to get a couple of hunters within the area to deliver to Sam and Dean four pounds of chilled chicken feet, a pound of powdered iron, some hawthorn tree roots, ashes of Saint Cyprian of Antioch, a bowl made of blessed clay with paint that was mixed with the blood of a person of virtue for the witch-killing spell, and a few knives made up of pure iron coated with a silver edge in case the spell went wrong. 

Obviously, Bobby knew about the witch-killing spell, but the other ingredients included that they needed to obtain did raise a few questions and a short but quaint little conversation between him and Sam. 

* * *

" _Thanks for the stuff Bobby. We'll see you after we take down this son of a bitch._ " _Dean said._

_"Be safe, boys. Make sure you come back with as less holes on your bodies as possible. I don't want to waste two hours stitching you guys up like last time." Bobby replied with a snort and a soft chuckle._

_"Yeah, sure. See ya in a few days." Sam said. "Oh yeah, hey Bobby! Wait! Do you want us to get you anything when we come back?" The younger sibling said before Bobby has the chance to hang up. "Since Gwydion is going to be paying us quite a hefty sum, I was wondering if you'd want something when we return. He also said that if the stuff is not around the area, he'll see to it that we get what we desired as compensation for all the troubles that we're going through."_

_"For a witch, the bastard's got some good courtesy." Bobby chuckled with disbelief. "What? Am I hearing this right? Yer' asking if I want something? That's a first." Bobby repeated incredulously with an amused scoff. But after a brief moment of silence from Sam, indicating that the younger man was serious with the question, Bobby took a few seconds to contemplate on whether if he wanted something. He didn't really have anything at the top of his head at the moment. But something within him clicked, and he didn't waste time to say it._

_"Craig."_

_"Huh?"_

_Bobby didn't know what force have compelled him to say what he did. But since the word have already escaped his mouth, he might as well just proceed with the rest. He did curse himself a bit for just spewing it out of nowhere, though. Balls. Why did he say that? Bobby would like to blame that damn demon, Crowley, for his slip of the tongue. After all, it was only a few months ago since Crowley ripped off his contract for his soul and let him keep his legs. Involuntarily, of course. But the fact remains: Bobby can walk, run, jump, do whatever his legs will allow him to do. Hell, he can actually riverdance now._

_Now, Bobby ain't got no love for demon-kind, but he wasn't an ungrateful bastard._ _And for some weird reasons, Crowley's been showing up occasionally in his house with a bottle of Craig and a different reason and excuses each time. And though Bobby hates to admit it, the bastard's growing on him with each visit. That, however, doesn't mean that Bobby didn't take it upon himself to blast Crowley with a few rounds of rock salt when the King of Hell's feeling a bit grabby. So far, Crowley has shown up with three different Armani suits; courtesy of Bobby. He had to give himself a mental pat on the back on that one._

_"Craig." Bobby said lamely, ignorant the tone of amusement from the younger Winchester. "You know, those fancy Scotch thing? From_ Scotland _?" He said with a huff at Sam's bewildered voice._

_"No no no, I know what Craig is, Bobby. I just... didn't know you liked those. I didn't expect for you to say that of all the things, considering what's been in your cabinet these past few years." Sam let out a soft laughter, and Bobby smiled at the sound of his boy's voice. "Craig is quite the fancy drink, so I was surprised that you even knew about it. No offense, Bobby." The hunter rolled his eyes affectionately as he then gave Sam a playful scoff._

_"Sam, I'm an alcoholic, remember? And of course I know what it is, ya idjit. I ain't a heathen. In case you'd forgotten, I'm as old as dirt. Also, I like them just fine, but you know I ain't got the money to buy it as an everyday drink. I'd be a waste to chuck it down casually; that stuff ain't your friendly ol' rotgut. Besides," Bobby chuckled. "For once, I don't want to drink it all by myself. You boys get to share it with me when you get back. Sounds good?"_

_"Hell yeah, Bobby. Time for some well-deserved vacation." Dean interrupted as Sam made an irritated sound coming through the phone, making Bobby groan and shook his head with a fond grin plastered across his face. "Hey what's that sound supposed to mean? I'm the one that's gonna be bringing you them fancy schmancy liquor." Laughed the older Winchester. "Alright then, we gotta go. Hang on tight OK old man? We'll be back before you can even say 'pie'. I'll call you when we're done."_

_"Alright. Good luck, boys. Break a leg. Actually, don't. Just try not to be messy and clean up after yourselves." Bobby said as he then hung up, leaving his boys to their work._

* * *

That was three days ago. So far, no calls, no voicemail, nothing. Bobby was starting to get worried. They're all grown men, and they are more than capable of taking care of themselves. Still, he couldn't help but feel a little bit anxious. Winchesters, being Winchesters, usually wrapped things up pretty quickly. The longest hunt that Bobby ever heard them being in stretched out for a whole entire week. With the proper ingredients and spells, it shouldn't take them this long to come back. Perhaps because of distance? Maybe Gwydion is a lying sack of swine just like how Bobby expected him to be, and he has turned against Sam and Dean the moment Tia Dalma dropped dead. Maybe Bobby should give them a call instead...

No. Bobby shook his head. Dean told him he was going to phone in when he was done. They'll be fine. He'd seen them come out from worse situations with fewer preparations. If it's something that they can't handle, he was ninety-nine percent positive that they would have called him by now.

Bobby sighed, leaning back in his seat as he stared idly at the ceiling.

_It's quiet..._

It doesn't usually occur to him too often because his phone rarely stopped ringing. But when it does, the silence in his house comforted and put Bobby on edge at the same time. Usually, when the boys were staying over, the house was lively in a good way, and not something that would give him a headache at five in the morning. His house isn't the biggest house in the neighborhood, but it was spacious. Being all by oneself in such a spacious house... 

It gets lonely at times.

When Bobby's phones ceased their relentless assaults, there wasn't anything else in the house that would potentially make noises without Bobby having a hand in it. If Bobby doesn't touch his books, then there would be the soft sounds of ancient text pages shuffling back and forth. If he doesn't turn the TV on, then there would be no chattering from Tori and Dean. If he doesn't talk to people through the phone, then the only noise there was would be the sound of his own breathing taking up the empty space. He doesn't dislike silence. He does, however, dislike what it does. Silence gave him time to think. And most of the time, Bobby doesn't want to think about anything at all. Thinking usually left Bobby a depressed husk of emptiness or a drunk, sobbing mess. 

Bobby doesn't want his boys to pity him, so he doesn't tell them; or anyone, really. Plus, they have enough on their hands as it is. Besides, he doesn't want any 'chick-flick moments', as Dean would put it. He didn't mind being alone. He has been like that for a while now, so a few days without actual human contacts wouldn't hurt. Still, he really would appreciate a living being's presence around the house more often.

After Karen, Bobby never really made any effort for socializing. He was known by the town as the grumpy, old man that lives on alcohol and curse words that would make a sailor felt like he was but an adolescent. People tend to avoid those types of individuals, and that was perfectly fine with him. Bobby's lifestyle doesn't need prodding eyes and ears from busybodies. That doesn't mean that he doesn't appreciate any company he gets. It was nice when Rufus dropped in sometimes, even if it was mostly for a favor, or to simply salvage his liquor cabinet or to dispose of certain... _evidence_. 

Bobby doesn't really care much for the actual, physical, human contact itself; it's more about the company, whether silently or vocally. It doesn't matter if it's ten minutes or ten hours, Bobby just appreciates anyone who'd willingly make and take the time to spend in this all too spacious house with an old and grumpy drunk. Even if they don't say anything at all and just simply sat there, idly drinking a few shots of one of his better alcohol, Bobby could find comfort in the fact that there was another human being in the house to fill up all the emptiness.

There was exceptions to that little 'human being' detail, though.

There was Castiel. The Angel would occasionally drop by to check in on the old hunter and to keep an eye on the Winchester boys if needed. Sometimes, he's just there to talk, but as of lately he has been pretty busy. Balthazar would tag along with his friend. Though, lots of times he'd come by himself to raid Bobby's pantry and exchange sarcastic remarks with the hunter which often resulted in Balthazar leaving with a smirk of secret delight and Bobby with a defeated shake of his head. Another odd exception was Gabriel. 

Now Gabriel, the _mother freaking Archangel_ , would also come by to bother mostly Sam or to make sure that Bobby suffers in a playful and bittersweetliterallyway by dropping piles of pastries and confectioneries that he knows the old hunter can't eat because of certain issues at random places in his house.

It's not like he ever ate much sweets in his life, anyway. But he could entertain the winged bastard by making groans whenever a bag of M&Ms or a mountain of snickers popped out of thin air in front of him. But those were just part of the excuses for Gabriel to come by to avoid his duties so that he could 'pick up' the mess that he left behind. Bobby kinda liked Gabriel, actually. Guy had a sense of dark humor that could be appreciated by the right person. Plus, Gabriel tried not to be cruel sometimes when he conjured up things that Bobby can actually eat that wouldn't give him cardiac arrest or something like that. But the last time Bobby saw him was about a month ago.

Sometimes he'd wonder why those three individuals kept showing up at his house of all the places. Was it some sort of Angel center, hotel, or lodge? Or was it because they liked to torment an old man because they have nothing better to do?

That latter part was not true, of course. With Lucifer's change of heart, things upstairs have been changing. Not easily, though. The angels didn't really trust him, and it didn't help that Michael and Raphael were being difficult bastards. But with Gabriel's reappearance by his brother's side and after a very long confrontation between the Archangel siblings without the intention of killing, Heaven was convinced that Lucifer has the intention to fix his mistakes. Because Lucifer was an angel before he was the devil, and there is still good in him.

Michael raised Lucifer himself, and they were happy together living among God and their siblings before the fateful events that have already transpired. So he gave his brother a chance to atone for his disobedience unlike before, when Michael didn't give Lucifer a chance then because back then, Lucifer did not have humility or acknowledges his own mistakes and wished to continue defying God. That wasn't the case anymore.

Gabriel, though, was a bit unhappy. Mostly because with his reappearance, he was going to be bothered a lot by the upstairs' peeps. But the kid did love his brother. So he 'took one for the team'.

Bobby then thought about the other unusual individuals that frequented at his home. Aside from the holier-than-thou folks, was there anyone else?

...He almost groaned out loud as the thought of a certain smarmy demon began to occupy his mind once again.  

Every time that Crowley is somehow mentioned or is being referred to, Bobby could feel himself getting a migraine which makes him want to shoot himself ten times in the head with a .45 caliber handgun. The bastard knew exactly how to push his buttons, and he seemed to _enjoy_  making Bobby uncomfortable. Bobby surprised himself this one time by managing to conjure up fifty different facial expressions of annoyance in the same day. A new record, that one.

The hunter huffs with a small smile on his face as he recalled his most recent encounter with the King of Hell, which was five days ago. Crowley popped in while Bobby was working on one of the many cars in his salvage yard. Bobby didn't know that he was there until the idjit made himself known by whispering in his ears out of nowhere, effectively causing him to bang his head against the hood of the car he was working on. At the time, Bobby was too dazed and tired to deal with the demon; for once, he didn't threaten to nor actually shot the bastard with rock salt.

That day was... weird. Crowley almost looked apologetic when Bobby went back inside the house still rubbing the sore spot behind his head. The demon brought over his peace treaty token like usual. But this time, it wasn't alcohol. Instead, five tubs of ice cream of varying flavors lay idly in his freezer. The many events that lead up to the part where ice cream appears were so irrelevant and weird that it makes no sense at all to Bobby. But when the King of Hell was involved, that was to be expected, after all.

* * *

_"What kind of classless heathen are you? How can you not have at least one pint of ice cream in this godforsaken weather?" Crowley 'tsk'ed' as he inspects his pathetic excuse of a refrigerator. Shaking his head with an expression of utter disappointment._ _Bobby then proceeds to roll his eyes so hard he could have sworn that he saw the insides of his brain._

_"I'm over half a century old, ya friggin idjit. Sugar ain't exactly good for people my age."_

_"Darling, you're being over-dramatic. Look at me." The King of Hell said, opening his arms widely as if he wanted for Bobby to look at him; the gesture was distracting, and so Bobby indeed turn his attention to the talking demon, though, not without a great deal of eye-rolling. "I'm over three hundred years old. Eating ice cream is my kind of effortless pleasure; been doing so for quite a while now, when I'm given the chance. And I still look quite good, if I do say so myself." Crowley said with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows and a shit-eating smirk that infuriates Bobby to no end._

_"Glad to know that eating ice cream turns you on. Gives me another reason not to purchase that diabetes-in-a-container. And people my age? Well, let's just say that smarmy demon bastards aren't the only thing that they need to be worried about. 'M pretty sure you ain't feeling the things yer supposed to at yer age 'cause yer a demon." The hunter said with a snort, smiling with humor when Crowley dramatically made an offended face as he gave Bobby a scoff of disbelief._

_"Oh, Robert. Always the charmer, aren't you?" Crowley sighed out softly, his lips forming a smirk as he leaned his body against the now closed refrigerator, effectively sidestepping the devil's trap that Bobby placed just at the edge of where the freezer was. "I'm quite sure that whatever it is I am not feeling is due to the courtesy of you yourself." At Bobby's confused expression, the demon gave him a smirk so devilish that it caused his heart to literally skipped a beat because he wasn't sure if the gaze looks threatening or... something else. "If we do things my way, I won't be feeling just anything. I'll be feeling you. Preferably inside me. Or vice versa. Whichever trips your trigger~."_

_Bobby couldn't help the blush that rose to his cheeks as he tore his gaze away from the demon, unable to look at Crowley dead in his eyes. He gritted his teeth together as he pulled down his baseball cap to cover up his obviously rosy cheeks._

_"...Shaddap. It's too early for this." Bobby groaned, sinking into the seat of his sofa as he felt even more embarrassed._

_"Ah, yes. I must agree with you there. We should do it at... say, about ten-ish in the afternoon? The little runts down below can't be left alone for too long, after all. They're less rowdy and loud at night. Well, sometimes. Me, not so much~!" Crowley then winked as he clicked his tongue at Bobby, making him almost groaned in frustration and embarrassment._

_"Goddammit." He muttered quietly before pulling his hat down even further until he's positive that Crowley will not be able to see any part of his face. "There's no 'it' to be doing, ya idjit." Grumbles the hunter, but a smile wandered onto his face as he relaxes on his sofa._

_"That's some appropriate choice of vocabulary you got there, love." Chuckled the demon. "And you're right, once again. Wow, Robert, I must say, today has been a very productive day for you, yes? Anyhow, I won't be doing 'it'. I'll be doing you, darling."_

_"Shut up." Mumbled the hunter with a small smile. Bobby exhales out through his nose and shook his head when he felt a weight being added on the sofa that he was on. He didn't need to turn his head to know that Crowley was sitting there, possibly watching him with that goddamn smirk on his face that makes Bobby want to punch the demon straight in his face, along with... other things..._

_When the thought entered his mind, Bobby coughed once to make himself feel less awkward and embarrassed as he then decided to risk it and look at the male sitting next to him. He was surprised to see the King of Hell smiling at him. Not the usual shit-eating smirk that infuriates Bobby to no end, but an honest-to-goodness smile that unnerved and confused and made Bobby feeling all weird on the inside._

> _"What? Do I have something on my face?" Bobby said with a snort and a roll of his eyes to cover up his nervousness. It's not like Bobby cared much for what others think about him, hell no. But for some reason, Crowley scrutinizing him made him feel oddly conscious of himself._

_"Well, yes. That beard of yours, for starters." The King of Hell replied with a grin that showed the top row of his pearly white teeth._ _Bobby snorted and shook his head._

_"I'm not shaving it, Princess."_

_"I never asked you to, pet. If you did, I think I might have to kill you myself." Crowley purrs as he made a mischievous face at Bobby. Friggin demon bastard and his fucking tease... Still, it'd take a lot more than that to throw Bobby off of his game._

_"You can try." Smirked the hunter as Crowley did the same in return. Then, with a soft sigh, Bobby crossed his arms together as he then leaned his head back onto the sofa to stare at the ceiling of the room. "Why are you really here, Crowley? Aren't you supposed to be in, well, Hell? No offense." Bobby chuckled. "With all the stuff that's going on with your new 'job', I doubt you have time to just merely visit the town's drunk and talk about his beard to pass time."_

_"None taken, pet." Crowley said with a small laugh as he inspects his perfectly manicured nails idly. "There_ are _actually plenty of things to do in that fiery pit of sweat, blood, and tears. But I wanted a break from all the stupidity that is constantly surrounding me. I have to get away from those mindless morons before I became too frustrated to the point of stabbing myself with an Angel Blade. I swear, idiots. They're the worst type of torture. You of all people would know how it is."_

_"Yeah. I do, actually." Bobby sighed as he, for once, agreed with the demon. He was dealing with the same stuff every day too. Some idjits just can't understand instructions nor is smart enough to figure the most basic of things out on their own. Talk of work really does tire him out. And Bobby finds himself wincing as a headache came upon him. The impact on his head earlier didn't really help either. But before he could get up and get himself a cold, wet towel, he felt a firm touch upon his forehead. Bobby blinked, and suddenly the pain was gone. His blurry vision is replaced by Crowley crouching in front of him with his hand lingering on Bobby's forehead before he smirked and pulls his hand away as Bobby opened his mouth to say something, but quickly closes it as he finds himself unable to say anything._

_"Bobby, Bobby, Bobby. What am I going to do with you?" Crowley frowned with a disapproving face. Bobby would have said that the King of Hell looked... concerned for him. But demons doesn't concern themselves with anyone else, so Bobby must have imagined it. "You've got to take care of yourself more, Robert. Well, it was partly my fault that your concussion occurred earlier anyway. But all is swell now, even if it won't last forever. Headaches won't bother you anymore, at least not for a few weeks." The King of Hell sighed and crossed his arms in front of his chest, straightening his posture as he clicked his tongue at Bobby. The hunter frowned, feeling like he was being mothered by the goddamn King of Hell. He was a grown ass man, he doesn't need anyone telling him about him not taking good care of his own body._

_"What the hell did you do?" The hunter said with slight annoyance as he touched his own forehead. Part of him was still not believing what just happened had actually been transpired. He then stared at Crowley in slight shock and bewilderment with his mouth agape. Not only did Bobby not feel that damn headache anymore, he felt invigorated, energized, even._

_"Oh, come on love. You've seen me done more awe-worthy deeds than this petty little thing. It's not that shocking."_

_"It's not... shocking, but I didn't know demons could heal!" Bobby exclaimed bewilderingly with his jaws wide open._

_The King of Hell's eyes slowly trailed itself down's Bobby's face until it stopped at the hunter's lips. For a few moments, Crowley just continued to stare at it, almost as if he wasBobby shudderedentranced, until a tongue flicked out from the demon's mouth as Crowley then licked his own lips._

_"Don't leave your mouth wide open unless you want me to put something on or in it, Robert." Crowley cackled at Bobby's instant close of his mouth and horrified expression on his face. "I merely jest, darling. You're simply adorable when you squirm!" The demon laughed at Bobby's obvious fluster and discomfort. "So, technically, I didn't 'heal' you, per se. I just... drove it away. King of Hell, remember?"_

_"You... scared it. My headache. Drove it. Away." The hunter said slowly, not quite sure if what he heard was correct. How was that even possible? But Bobby really shouldn't be surprised anymore at this point in his life. That was actually pretty impressive, and Bobby nodded a few times to prove his point. "Huh. Neat. I didn't know you can do that."_

_"You never asked. But if I put it more correctly: I exorcised your headache."_ _Bobby blinked dumbly at the King of Hell for a straight five seconds before shaking his head._

_"...I'm either too old to understand what you said or it's just too plain confusing." Bobby said with a deadpanned face._

_"Neither. You're just uninformed, darling. How about you let me elaborate?" The demon had an amused smile on his face, putting his hands inside of the pocket of his pants as he then began to educate Bobby. "Headaches are symptoms of many things, including the flu. You might not be aware of it, but you were really close to being stuck in bed for a couple of days. When I touch your forehead, I thought your discomfort was only because of the earlier impact to your skull; apologies for that, darling. It was fun seeing_ the _Bobby Singer being surprised in his own home. Anyhow, it turned out that you have the flu, but only just recent enough for you to suffer the most minor of its effect. Long version short: The flu is one of Beelzebub's creations. So, naturally, it is demonic. And If it's demonic..."_

_"...You can exorcise it." Bobby finished. Crowley had a pleased look on his face as the hunter finally understood the information that was given to him. "That's why I kept wanting to throw my guts up in the past twenty-four hours..." He mumbled as his recent nausea impulses were now properly explained. "So next time, if I got sick, I could just... 'Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus' it away?" Bobby asked, then laughed when he noticed that the beginning of the exorcism incantation had a small effect on Crowley. It was instinctual, Bobby didn't mean to do it. But now that he did, he couldn't stop laughing at the King of Hell's discombobulated state._

_"Bloody hell, Robert! Don'tbollocks. Don't do that!" Crowley said indignantly. If Bobby wasn't observant, he would have missed the brief smile that tugged at Crowley's lips before an annoyed expression replaced them. With a roll of his eyes, Crowley dusted the shoulders of his probably three thousand dollar Armani tuxedo. "Oh, ha ha. Laugh it up. You're lucky that I find you less infuriating than those Winchesters, or next time Growley won't be so easy on your furniture nor you." Scoffed the King of Hell as he then took a few seconds to regain his composure._

_"Anyway, a regular human can't really 'exorcise' the flu away. Only demons themselves can do that; perhaps angels as well, but I haven't have the chance to test out that theory." Crowley then chuckled nonchalantly._ _"_ _Oh, Beelzebub was so proud of himself when he created theliterallydamned thing. The flu is designed to look like natural occurrences, a part of the human's ability to adapt and change, all that extra goodness. So naturally, a human can't just exorcise something that's supposed to be, well, natural; the catch is that it's a part of themselves. Mixed within the red and white blood cells of their bodies. All that scientific bits. Et cetera. Demons, however, we know that it's demonic; we can detect it. And if the individual were given the power to do so, then poof! Flu's gone like relatives after Thanksgiving dinner."_

_"Well, whatever you did, thanks. I don't feel like I was going through World War II the second time anymore." Bobby said with a gruff but genuinely grateful tone. The demon made a face and grimaced, looking for the first time uncomfortable at something that Bobby said to him._

_"Well. You're... ahem. You're welcome." Crowley replied with a grimace that was quickly replaced by a smirk. "I didn't want my favorite toy to suffer for too long. After all, you're one of the few people that can hold an actual intelligent conversation that doesn't bore me. Going to need you in your tip top shape for that." Before the casual retort, The King of Hell appeared uncertain of himself for the slightest of moment before his usual snark came back up, making Bobby roll his eyes once again. The hunter has lost count of how many times he have done so in the past hour, and he wasn't planning on picking it up._

_"Alright, Princess. Whatever. Still, I... I appreciate it." Bobby grunted as Crowley made a small humming noise and nodded to him, plopping himself down beside the bearded man once again. The two sat in comfortable silence for a while, idly relaxing within each other's company before the hunter speaks up. "You still didn't answer my previous question, ya idjit."_

_"Forgive me, Robert. I was too busy staring at your lips. What was the question?" Crowley blinked casually, fluttering his eyelashes at Bobby a few times for emphasis._

_"You really have no friggin shame, do you?" Mumbled Bobby with slightly flushed cheeks, tugging on his cap once again like a lifeline. He wondered how far down it can go before the bill of his cap is busted apart by how hard Bobby is currently pulling on it._

_"No. Why should I? King of Hell, darling. Seems a bit petty to feel ashamed of wanting to devour your lovely visage."_

_"Ugh." Bobby swears that staying around this demon was not good for his health. But then again, Crowley was a demon. And demons aren't good for anything but pestering people with sarcastic comments that somehow made Bobby's day feel not as dull. "I just got a hold of my soul. I ain't losing it again just yet, ya smarmy idjit. So ya can screw right off."_

_"'Yet'. I do quite like that specific word choice there." Crowley chuckled darkly, sending a rush of goosebumps down Bobby's spine at the tone of the demon's voice. Bobby cursed himself mentally for feeling all weird at the King of Hell's voice. It's so... weird. Such a small thing shouldn't have that big of an effect on Bobby._

_"Ya know, just to piss you off, I'll sell my soul to some random crossroad demon before you can trick me into giving you mine again."_

_For a brief second, the demon's eyes glowed with a crimson red flash, making Crowley's face eerily dangerous and his expression unreadable before it faded away as quick as it came. Bobby wondered to himself if he imagined that up, because the King of Hell still donned his usual smirking face, leaving behind no evidence that suggested what Bobby saw was real. But he decided not to comment on it._

_"It'll still be mine. I'm the King of Hell, Bobby. I hold all the souls, along with the contracts made for them. It's adorable, how you think I can't get a hold of your glowing orb of spiritual energy even if you sell it to some other bastards. I do applaud the effort, though."_

_Bobby snorted._

_"Well, 's gonna be a shame that I'll have to go to literal Hell after. But if it means that I don't have to kiss you, that's a win in my book."_

_"You're breaking my heart, Robert." Crowley said dramatically, placing a hand to his heart with an expression of fake hurt. "Don't you trust me? I can't believe you would say such a thing. I thought I was your go-to dealer of sin."_

_"Eighty-nine percent of me don't trust anyone, least of all you." Retorted Bobby with a scoff. "There's this one demon for Dean. That's all done and over with. And then there was Lilith, but that was for Sam. And uh, yeah, they didn't quite finish the 'deed' yet, I've heard. Plus, she's kinda... dead. So yeah, that leaves you and your stupid ass."_

_"But eleven percent of you do trust me now, don't it? You know, now that I'm the King of Hell, a deal with me would require a lot more than a simple kiss, too." The demon said slowly, his gaze suggestively wandered from Bobby's lips down to... wherever it is. Bobby swallowed discreetly when he felt Crowley's eyes mentally undressing him with that stare, and he has to try really hard to pretend he didn't see where the demon's eyes finally landed. "I assure you that my 'ass' is not at all stupid. In fact, they're pretty pert, all nice and plump like. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were flirting with me. Are you now, Robert Steven "Bobby" Singer?"_

_"No, you idjit!!!" The hunter replied indignantly, though not without flushed cheeks. Crowley was seriously bad for his health. If Bobby blushed anymore, he was pretty sure that his head is going to combusts or he is going to die of blood lost. "I was trying ta ask you a question before you freaking interrupted me with your stupid ass comments, frigging demonic idjit..." He mumbled, feeling all embarrassed for no reason. He knows that Crowley was just being Crowley, but Bobby can't help it. The only other individual that have ever looked at him so intensely was Rumsfeld when he wanted for Bobby to feed him. And Rumsfeld was his dog._

_The demon didn't say anything but simply stared at him with a small smile and an amused look. It was as if Crowley was saying 'Well then, shoot. I haven't all day'. Bobby, though, wasn't sure if that last part was true. If Crowley_ really _wanted to, he could have ignored all of his Kingly duties and find a way to persuade Bobby into doing something that Bobby would probably regret._

_"Earlier, I asked you why you're really here. So far, you're not giving me a straight answer."_

_"Ah, that's where things get tricky. See, I'm not exactly 'straight', darling." Grinned the King of Hell when Bobby groaned mournfully. "A coin can't have only one side, after all."_

_"Remind me why I haven't shoot you full of rock salt by now?" Sighed Bobby as he massaged the middle of his forehead to quell his 'frustrations'. "Really. Tell me why you're here, Crowley. Ya don't usually drop by for casual reasons. What's the excuse today?"_

_It took Crowley a few moments to answer. During that time, there was something in his eyes that Bobby can't quite place. The man looked... troubled. That's something that Bobby haven't yet to see, and he was quite surprised of the emotion in Crowley's face when he took off his smirking and smarmy facade. He looked so... different. Tired. And Bobby could immediately recognize what it is before he even realized it. That look... was the look that Bobby wore on his face every day._

_"Well then, I guess I must come clean now, eh?" Crowley smiled without humor. "I was actually being a bit honest with you earlier. I wanted to get away from all the 'exciting' bits downstairs. It's... tiring. To lead and command, when everyone constantly messes up. Being King of The Crossroads were easier to manage, you know? I still held the Crossroad contracts and harvests the important souls when they're due. But then, I was able to roam, get around a little. Now? The new job requires me to be stationary and deal with idiots that can't even tie their own shoes! And you know who have to clean up the messes that they leave behind?!" Crowley said with a fist in his hair, his voice frustrated and his face contorted with anger._

_Today was a day of 'firsts' it seems. Crowley's anger was quite terrifying; and Bobby was only experiencing it in the most minor of its entirety, he was sure._

_"Me! The bloody King of Hell, doing both the dirty work_  and _the cleanup because his subordinates are too stupid to do so themselves! I'm their sodding King, not their mother, I shouldn't have to guide them through every single blasted step!" Growled the demon, his pupils smoking as it turns crimson red color, showing Crowley's true eyes. Bobby was a bit startled for that instance, for this the first time that he had a glimpse at something that the demon doesn't usually show. He wondered why, though. Despite the imposing and intimidating feel that it was supposed to invoke, Bobby found it quite intriguing. And with that, he wasn't put off by the demon's fading red eyes anymore, instead, he watched the male's face attentively and curiously._

_"I hate them. I hate them all. They're all trash. Garbage. Useless. There were very few of them that was actually smart and competent enough for me to give respect to. But the rest? They can't do anything without me. That's bloody ridiculous! ...You get it, don't you?" Crowley said with a small sigh, the red of his eyes disappearing completely. Bobby knew that it should've bothered him, but he was hoping he'd get to see more of his crimson red orb that intrigues him so. Bobby can tell that the male doesn't usually flash them out casually at all. And getting all up close and personal to be able to see the King of Hell's eyes like this? Not many will ever live to have the chance to meet the demon himself, less be up in Crowley's personal space to see the King's eyes. Perhaps they will get to see them, and it will be right before they die by Crowley's own hands._

_Bobby wondered if that is what will happen to him eventually in the future. Will this little 'camaraderie' backstab and kills him someday, he wondered. The deepest, darkest part inside of him was tired of living this tiresome life, and he'd be glad to finally kick his own bucket or sell his soul to Crowley just so the demon can do it for him instead. Be done with the world. It doesn't need him. It'll go on without him..._

_But he then decided to brush the thought aside._

Wishful thinking. 

_Besides, if Crowley did try to or managed to kill him some way and somehow, Bobby would never go down without putting up a fight. That's just the way he is and the way this little 'relationship' of theirs functioned. And he wouldn't have it any other way. With a blank smile that contains no real emotion, Bobby shook off his train of thoughts then responded to Crowley's query with a soft hum and a deep intake of breath._

_"Yeah... I get it." Bobby said quietly, nodding at Crowley's words, indicating that he was listening. The hunter knew that feeling all too well. Each day, he was dealing with a different kind of stupidity. It's not the most pleasant job in the world, nor it is the most rewarding. But he's stuck with it. And you either take it all, or you lose it all._

_It wasn't the first time they were having this conversation._

_Back then, when Crowley still has Bobby's soul, The King of Hell had angrily vented about this problem to him. But Bobby was too caught up with getting his soul back to actually paid the demon much mind about it. Now, of course, things are different. Now, Bobby actually listens because he finds himself wanting to hear. He rather liked the company of another person, be it a demon or something else. And he came to realize that maybe he and Crowley have more in common than he previously thought._

_"I can't stand those moronic bastards. Try to show them how to do things in a new wayan improved way, and they bitch and whine like five years old when their favorite cartoon got canceled." The King of Hell sighed mournfully, shaking his head with resignation. "Sometimes I wished I was some sort of Angeldon't worry, I still held an extreme distaste for those feathered penguinsjust so I will have the power to smite these stupid, incompetent morons. Now that I think about it, Lucifer should have eradicated the entire underworld population back in the prevented Apocalypse. He's welcomed to come back to do so again at any time. But too bad he's 'redeemed' now. Hell's not his personal playground anymore, and it's not on his list of desired vacation spots. Not that it's too bad a thing, of course. Else I wouldn't have this job or still be alive." Crowley snorted with an amused smirk tugging at the corners of his lips._

_"Although we are products of corruption, our existence does maintain balance to the world. Without us, there'd be no 'Hell'. And without 'Hell', there'd be no 'Heaven'. It'll get occupied by those that are not supposed to be there. And where would the ones who deserves to be there go when that big box of sunshine and rainbow filled up? Though those egotistical bastards up there would love to think otherwise, we are important; to them, too. Even if they begged to differ."_

_Crowley huffs with an annoyed but thoughtful voice. And Bobby hummed in acknowledgment and contemplation. Bobby wasn't a narrow-minded person. He doesn't only see black and white. What Crowley said did make sense when it comes to the big picture. And the nod from Bobby gave Crowley the indication to continue with his thoughts and rants._

_"I bet Daddy's favorite up there realized that. He gave me everything. The Crown, the Throne, the power, the official 'Approved' seal for those blundering black-eyed idiots down below to never question my authority, and the key to my five-star condo in Hell."_

_"Hell has a condo?"_

_"Figuratively speaking, darling. Sure, I can make it a resort if I wanted it to. But it mostly just means a personal little office for me to get cozy with in my inevitable coming days as permanent King."_

_"...That is pretty, uh, nice? Of him? He could've just given it entirely to some other bastard, right? Then where would we be?"_

_"You're right, darling. But that is where things are not as simple as it seems. As you already know, Lucifer hates us. He created us out of spite for his own Daddy. But with this new 'change of heart', he knew that Heaven couldn't exist without Hell. And earth won't be able to last without either. He can't afford to lose this planet now, and who knows what would happen if the little runts downstairs are allowed to roam free? But he doesn't want to be near his 'children' just yet. He still views demons as a mistake on his part. So why not give the next best thing after Lilith the full responsibility and benefits of the job that he doesn't really want to do?"_

> __

_"Most demons don't really care for anything else but their own greed. Me, I like earth. Sure, I'm greedy too, and I, of course, do want to look after my own hide. But, I have terra's best interest at heart because it's good for the business I've been running. Without the inhabitants of earth, I would have no reliable source of power supply for Hell. In addition, we'll become easy targets for all sorts of nasty creatures and things. And it'll be dreadfully boring as well. We demons are pretty predictable. Humans, though, you never know what's going on through their pretty little heads. I do applaud their imaginations. They can be even more twisted than us. I might not like many humans, but they are a very interesting species. Not much of a person for surprises myself, but I do entertain the idea." Crowley chuckled._

_"_ _Of course, as you said, there are plenty of other bastards qualified for the position. But for previously stated reasons and the fact that I_ did _try to kill him by handling over the Colt to your squirrel and moose, I'm most definitely the ideal package. Lucifer either gave me the full ride out of spite, knowing how much 'fun' it was going to be for me, or because he was amused and intrigued by the 'little mouse with a_  very big _ambition'. I'd say he was impressed, even. Maybe he gave it to me as a 'gift' since he probably knew that I'll need all the strength and help I can get. I am the most powerful individual in the hierarchy of Hell now. Power wise and position wise."_

_Bobby's eyes widen with surprise and slight shock._

_"Absolute authority and power in the underworld? That's... pretty sweet." Chuckled the hunter with a slightly impressed look. "If not terrifying..." He muttered, but it was loud enough for Crowley to hear._

_"Absolutely. Felt it the moment it entered my body. It's like having sex the first time, without the initial sting or discomfort." Crowley said. Bobby knew the demon couldn't help but slide in some sexual innuendo somewhere, and he humored the King of Hell by heaving out a long sigh. The male gave the hunter a brief grin of his own before he fixated his gaze at some corner of the room, purposefully avoiding looking at Bobby's eyes._ _"Having the power and the respect you deserves feels great. But the hassle is sometimes more trouble than it's worth. The runts are sad that their daddy abandons them just like how their daddy's daddy abandon his own. But The Prince of Darkness gave me his leash and ran for the door. I'm calling the shots now. And the Kingdom can afford to lose a couple of fleas if all they've managed to do is become useless and whiny parasites."_

_"...Not sure if that's good news or not. But someone must manage Hell. And I guess it could've been someone worse. So... thanks, Satan?" Bobby said with a joking chuckle followed by a hard frown, processing what Crowley had said to him with a hand rubbing his bearded cheeks out of habit._

_"Correct. The Devil you know, right? It could've been someone a lot worse. And, well, I'm Satan now. So you're welcome. Also, to answer your earlier question..." The King of Hell sighed out softly, finally bringing his eyes up to stare at Bobby face to face. "With what I've been dealing with, all of these Kingly duties and responsibilities... I've been feeling a bit... over... worked... Pah! I'm stressed, darling. I'm stressed! So, I'm here to eat ice cream. Blow off a little steam." With a snap of his fingers, five tubs of ice cream appeared on the coffee table that sat in front of the sofa that Bobby and Crowley are currently occupying. The hunter then blinked when an assortment of color filled his vision._

_"_ _Obviously, I don't need to eat. But I find ice cream therapy to be quite relaxing. I usually consumed them when I'm feeling particularly irritable; or just because I wanted to. They're quite delicious, after all. So, there's your answer." Shrugged the demon. "Now that I'm here, are you in, or are you out, Robert? Or should I pack up these five pints of delectable delights and go about? They are handcrafted from Vivoli in Italy. You'll be missing out." The King of Hell concluded with a curious tilt of his head._

_Bobby gave Crowley a long and hard stare, unsure of how to respond to such a request. Bobby was quite surprised at the answer if he has to be honest. Of all the people that Crowley could have come to, he came to Bobby. The King of Hell, wanting to spend time with Bobby Singer, the grumpy old drunk with daddy issues and traumatic experiences. A hunter, most importantly. Was he coming here once again because they have formed some type of... bond? Was the demon actually trusting for Bobby to see his more vulnerable side that he doesn't usually show to anyone? That he trusted Bobby enough to come here to... what, relax? Crowley could have popped himself throughout the entire globe, go to places that are far more interesting than an old house with a scrap yard. But he chose to come here so that he could be himself and spend time doing what he liked._

_The thought had a nice sentimental value to it, and it made Bobby's stomach clench in an un-diarrhetic way. Still, Bobby was a hunter. And his hunter instinct told him that Crowley might have some motives behind this; after all, demons and their tongues are clever. But upon looking at the demon, Bobby pushed the thought to the back of his head and sighed internally._

_Crowley's face was impassive and unreadable. But there was a twinge of nervousness and anxiety that Bobby could detect; it was barely there, but his eyes say it all. It was as if Crowley was silently saying something like: 'Please say yes because I'd have no idea what to do if you say no.' And who was Bobby to drive away someone who's voluntarily wanting to spend their time in the company of a grumpy old man with a sarcastic attitude and the mouth of a sailor? Bobby then internally said 'Fuck it' and gave in; consequences be literally damned. He was being offered free food, and whatever occasion it was that Bobby didn't have to spend a dime out of his pocket, he was considered sold. I_ _t has been thirty-five years since Bobby last ate ice cream, though. But now that the Apocalypse's averted, it's as good a time as any to try it again; a form of celebration, one might say._

_"Yeah, 'm in..._ Only _if you have mint and cookies flavor, some coconut shavings, and yer gonna have to make sure those things won't cause my blood sugar to skyrocket to the flarkin' moon."_

_"Done, done, and done." Crowley said with obvious reliefwhich was kinda_ cute _, but Bobby will blow himself up with a grenade launcher lit in Holy Fire before he'll admit anythingand excitement as he snapped his fingers together with each spoken words. The five enormous tubs of ice cream were then replaced by two average sized ones with spoons sticking out of them like palm trees. On the side, a small bowl of coconut shavings sat cutely atop of the desk right next to a huge container of whipped cream that Bobby knew was obviously not for him because he gets diabetes just by looking at it. Of course, Crowley probably took care of that problem already, but Bobby wasn't willing to take that risk. Not_ voluntarily _._

_"What, yer not gonna say things like 'It's a deal' or 'Pleasure doing business with you, ye sodding imbecile' or somethin' like that?" Bobby said, imitating Crowley's British accent with a light and almost playful smirk._

_"Disregarding that horrible accent, this is hardly business, Robert. If it was, I wouldn't be flirting with you. Wait, scratch that. I would." Snickered the demon, making Bobby roll his eyes once again. There was a pregnant pause before Crowley's shit-eating smirk came back in full force. "Do you..._ want _it to be a deal, darling? Want to kiss me that badly? Shall I take off my clothes? Give you a show while we're at it? Don't worry, I won't take your soul this time. But in exchange, your undoubtedly ample arse will have to do." Either for emphasis or to embarrass the hell out of Bobby, Crowley tugged on his tie insistently and began to unbutton his Armani tuxedo with slow and deliberate movements as he moved closer to the hunter, legs and all moving all over the seats of the sofa._

_"N-No! Jesus Christ, Crowley! Don't come over here!" Bobbydid_ not _screech as he moved as far away from the demon as possible while still trying as hard as he can to remain seated atop of the old sofa. Crowley ignored Bobby's protest as he snake-crawled his way over until the front of his chest have touched the hunter's arms and his face was a mere few inches away from Bobby's own._

_At times like this, Bobby wished that he could have stacked his shotgun away under the seat of the sofa or something like that, but he didn't want to risk blowing a second hole in his ass. How he have regretted that decision. The hunter tried to reach for some form of weapon available to make Crowley think twice before he could try something funny. But no matter how much Bobby wished that the empty space in his hand was a fist full of salt or a nodachi blessed by a Shinto priest, the fact remains: he got nothing but an armful of demon that wanted nothing more but to cause Bobby the most extreme of discomfort. And most definitely Bobby's soul._

_For about a good solid ten seconds, the two of them just sat there and stared at each other. With Crowley occasionally batting his eyelashes at Bobby and the hunter's obvious discomfort and awkwardness evident on his face. Crowley, of course, didn't know what personal space was. The demon had his head placed on Bobby's shoulderit was so close to Bobby's face that he have to move his own extremely far away in the opposite direction, lest he risk letting his face get 'devoured' by the damn demon, the hunter's arms placed between his chest, and the rest of Crowley's body was sprawled all over the couch like a damn cat ready to prowl._

_The silence that came after was intense, almost feeling as if it was going to go on for an eternity until Bobby couldn't hold it in anymore and broke the silence with a loud and throaty laugh that echoed through the room. Crowley blinked, putting the tiniest amount of space in between them to look at Bobby with confusion._

_"What the bloody hell, Robert? What's so funny?" Crowley asked, looking more annoyed and offended the more Bobby's laughter went unexplained. "Why are you laughing!? You big, lumbering idiot!? Stop that!" The King of Hell said indignantly when Bobby doubled over with hysterical laughter mixed with tears. For the first time in his life, Bobby could see that Crowley was obviously embarrassed and looking quite irritated at something. Surely Crowley gets irritated with everyone that he worked with or commands, but embarrassment?_

_"Stop laughing at me! You damn red-neck!" Growled Crowley with a smack of his hand to Bobby's left arm. It appears that all intentions of wooing Bobby were thrown out of the window. Crowley actually looked_  upset  _at Bobby for once, and it made Bobby's laughter died down to light chuckles._

_"I'm not laughing at ya, Crowls. I'm laughing at this sit-com scenario." Bobby sighed softly but with a smile, feeling actually content with himself. "Come on. Gimme that ice cream. I'm starvin'." The hunter said, adjusting himself in his seat as he makes himself comfortable._

_Crowley stared at him for a solid five seconds before giving him a scoff of resignation and a shake of his head._

_"'Crowls'. Tch. Bloody moron." Said the demon without venom. Crowley breathes out slowly, standing up and gets out of his chair to grab the two pints of ice cream off of the quaint little coffee table before tossing one to Bobby. "Mint and cookies ice cream, as requested,_ sire _." Smirked Crowley when Bobby gave a glance to the small bowl of coconut shavings laying atop the table. "You can bloody go get the blasted coconuts yourself, you hillbilly redneck. I'm not your bloody maid."_

_"Alright, Princess. No need to get your panties in a twist." Snorted Bobby, leaning over the sofa to reach for said item and ceremoniously dumping the whole entire content atop of the ice cream. Damn, it's been a long time. Bobby's stomach then grumbled, sounding like the Impala before it was fixed up by Dean. With an appreciative and longing stare, Bobby raises the spoon with the ice cream content to his eye level, ignoring Crowley's silent giggle accompanied with a snort of amusement before putting the spoon in his mouth._

_Bobby was pretty sure that he was dead, and this was heaven. Because the moment the creamy texture of the ice cream hits his tongue was one of the most blissful and exhilarating experiences in his life, and he let out a soft, pleased moan at the sensation. Why the hell did he miss out on this for the past thirty-something years? Oh, yeah. Diabetes and depression. Good thing he can go all out on this one._

_"How did you know that I wear panties?" Crowley asked with a shit eating smirk just as Bobby put another spoonful of cold delight in his mouth, and Bobby choked on the spoon and the contents that he was current gulping down with a few violent cough. "I jest, darling. Don't die now. It's going to be quite difficult explaining to your ducklings the cause of your very comedic death." After making sure that Bobby is all calmed down and that he wouldn't die from choking, the demon snorted with a playful smirk on his lips. "You're right. This is like a sit-com. A very tasteless one at that. But a sit-com, nonetheless."_

_"...With you around, 'm pretty sure I'm gonna die early even if my soul is not doomed to hell." Bobby coughs one more time, shaking his head in resignation as he proceeds to consume more ice cream before he has to spit it out at any more of Crowley's incoming comments. The demon only grinned slyly at Bobby before he too began to pick at his own pint of ice cream. Mint chocolate chips, it seems._

_"Hmm. We can't have that now, can we? Who am I supposed to bother when you're gone? The bloody Winchesters? They have the attention span of an extremely stupid goldfish. Plus, they're not my type."_

_"But aren't goldfish naturally dumb?" Snorted Bobby._

_"Exactly."_

_"Those are my boys yer talking about, watch it. They ain't dumb, they're just... intellectually challenged at times."_

_"Ha. 'Intellectually challenged'. Alright, papa bear. Whatever you say." Crowley raises his hands up defensively. "Mind turning on the TV, love? As much as I love hearing your incredibly erotic voice, I do want to have more than one source of entertainment. Unless you want to take things upstairs, to your bedroom~?"_

_"We're not watching 'The Devil Wears Prada'. Period." Bobby said with closed eyes, completely disregarding and ignoring the last part of Crowley's statement and smirking when he heard a small 'aww' coming from the shorter male._

_"Cock-blocker. You're no fun." Sighed the King of Hell, but Bobby could tell that the male was either smirking or smiling. The hunter then heard a snap of a finger, and before he even knew it, a sensual saxophone melody began to play as the image of a very[beautiful](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G-XuW2oEWFs) [woman](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gU3k1Tpih8E) wearing very scandalous clothing appeared on the screen._

_"Crowley, what the hell is this?" Bobby said, his cheeks flushed with slight embarrassment and nervousness. What if Dean and Sam walk through the door and Bobby was watching some sort of porn right in front of them? He'll never be able to look at them in the eyes ever again._

_"It's 'Chicago', darling. A very famous and delightful_ musical _. Come on, live a little. You'll love it. Trust me. Now shh, I want to listen to this song."_

_"I ain't 'trusting' ya. But since yer already started the damn thing..." Bobby sighed, but resigned himself to looking at the screen as the pretty lady sang her first lines. The song was actually pretty catchy, and the visuals ain't so bad to look at either. With the pleasant cool of the ice cream on his tongue, him lounging lazily on his sofa, and the nice sounds of music echoing throughout the house, Bobby thought that this wasn't so bad. He could get used to this._

_"...I actually only wear panties on Fridays."_

_"Damn it, Crowley!"_

* * *

That was a really weird day, even for Bobby. And that was saying a lot when one takes into consideration that he has already seen  _and_ prevented the goddamn apocalypse. And there was that time when Dean became an old man. Bobby huffs and smiled softly at the memory. Suddenly, he wasn't feeling all that lonely anymore. It made him a bit giddy and warm at the thought of Crowley coming back to finish that movie with him. The hunter had that one song stuck in his head, and it made him feels like a diva every time it randomly resurfaces at random moments.

> _' So I said to him, I said,_  
>  _"You pop that gum one more[time](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qrrz54UtkCc)."_  
>  _And he did._  
>  _So I took the shotgun off the wall and fired two warning shots..._  
>  _Into his head._ '

Bobby mouthed the words and stopped himself upon noticing that he was doing it. Damn Crowley and his actually decent choice in film and music...

Realizing that he was smiling like a naturally born idjit, Bobby shook his head with a huff and a few firm pat to his cheeks. Damn demons and their... sorcery... thing...  _Bah, who am I kidding? The bastard is growing on me._ Bobby thought mournfully, despising himself a little. What would last year Bobby think of this year Bobby? Letting a demon inside of his house casually just like that? He'd get an earful from his last year self. _An earful of rock salt_.

Even though Bobby kinda wants to punch himself for letting himself slowly growing to trust a demon, he has to admit that the many times that Crowley showed up in his house has made Bobby's days significantly better. And now, without the demon's constant criticism of his poor choice in fashion, the sound of people chattering on TV, or the soft clinking of glasses of liquor together, the house was once again quiet. The silence was profound, and Bobby finds himself listening to the emptiness in the confines of his home.

It felt... strange. Different.

Unwelcoming.

For the first time, Bobby did not like the silence that would usually be a comfort to him. This silence was familiar, yet strange at the same time. And Bobby then has come to realize the reason why it's so foreign was because of one fact: He was alone once again. But this time, he realized that it wasn't because he didn't have a choice. It was because he never made an effort to do anything about it.

He could avoid this situation entirely; talk to the few friends that he had that was still alive, get drunk _with_ another person, go to hunts out of town _with_ someone. Get some closure he desperately needed. But that was something out of his own comfort zone, and he was too wrapped up with the death of his wife and forcing himself to a lifestyle of a stationary secretary slash alcoholic to do something different. Bobby is old, he doesn't change as quickly as others do. He is afraid of change. That if he moved beyond the daily routine that he had set up for himself, he could never come back. He doesn't know what will happen then, and not knowing scares him. Because he's the guy that's supposed to know anything and everything.

And it took a demon constantly showing up uninvited with a completely random intention with each visit to make Bobby realize that. Not that he was pitying himself. It was a fact. A fact that he was ignoring for god knows how long.

Bobby wasn't quite sure what to do next with this information in hand. Should he get out more? Try to be nice to the townsfolk a bit more? Have some 'chick-flick moments' to get it out of the way? But Bobby was pretty sure that it wouldn't make a goddamn difference no matter how much 'friends' he had. Quality over quantity, after all. He's pretty sure that ninety percent of them would ask him for a favor, then ditch him the moment that it's all done and over with. But hey, maybe Bobby's an altruist too. Not to Crowley's 'extent', though.

Besides, it wasn't as if he could actually leave the house. People will start to worry, or worse, get irritated with him if he doesn't respond to them right away. Like how a college kid gets irritated at his mother for not answering their calls when they need money for et cetera et cetera. Or even worse, they'll get themselves killed and come back to haunt him because he wasn't there to pick up the phone. It's not worth it.

...This was the kind of thoughts that would get him in this situation in the first place, wouldn't it? 

Why would he give a damn? It wasn't like Bobby was obligated to man the phones. He does this because he wanted to help others so that they wouldn't end up like him. And if he wanted to take a break, he could damn well get one. His pathetic excuse for a dad has been dead for a while now. So he'll be damned if he let others take control of his life. 

_Bringgggggg_! Sounded the phone.

The hunter sighed when he looked at the blaring phones, his shoulders hunched in defeat.

"Right..."

Too much wishful thinking. What a damn fool he was.

"Singer." Bobby said tiredly as he puts the phone to his ear.

" _Oh thank god! Bobby, it's Sam!_ " At the younger Winchester's rushed and panicked voice, all other thoughts that were irrelevant flew out of the window as he sat up abruptly.

"Sam? What's going on, son? What's happening?"

" _Oh my god, B-Bobby. Can you please help us? The witch brought with her some buddies, and even Gwydion doesn't know what those things are! Me and Dean don't know what they are eithercareful Dean! I'm talking to Bobby!_ "

" _Well talk faster! Or we're gonna become monster chow in the next five minutes! Bobby, please try to hurry up! This girl... thing, is trynna get its hands on our soft bottoms!_ " Dean shouted through the phone as different noises came through the receiver. There were screeching noises, and then there were strange glittering noises followed by a voice that he doesn't recognize. It must be Gwydion.

" _'Ello cheri! We're in a bit of a tight spot, would gladly appreciate some help!_ "

"Ok, w-where's Castiel? Have you guys try contacting him!?"

" _Robert Singer_ _, Dean said his boy-toy had a rain-check with Lucifer. Heaven_ _duties!_ " Gwydion shouted with a rushed but light voice filled with exhilaration. Was the bastard having... fun? Sam made an irritated noise, and Bobby could imagine him rolling his eyes at the witch.

"Now of all times!?" Bobby groaned. "Sam, what does it look like? Any distinguished characteristics about it?" Bobby asked, swiping the irrelevant items on the table onto the ground as he took out some of his lore books. There was a pause that made Bobby panicked for a moment when he didn't hear an answer. Bobby was preparing for the worst, but before his assumptions could have taken roots, Sam then gave out a shuddering sigh and began talking.

" _The thing is, it looks like a normal person to me! We can't see its true form! Only Gwydion can! And he's fending off the creatures that are going after Dean!_ "

"Are you telling me that Tia Dalma is  _not_ dead!?" Bobby said with slight disappointment and extreme worry. If the witch is not dead, then either the witch must be very powerful or something is up with the Winchester siblings.

" _No, she's quite dead! But her friends aren't happy about it! Hey, watch it, dude!"_ Shouted Sam when Bobby could hear something whizzed past him. Was that... It sounded like a... a fireball?

" _Pardonnez-moi_ , _Winchester!_ " Replied Gwydion, and Bobby could almost envision the male as a dapper Frenchie in a suit made up of pure velvet that priced more than what a regular Ferrari would usually cost. The manner of speech eerily reminded Bobby of Crowley, the only thing missing was the sexual innuendos and subtext. " _Sam Winchester, hand me the phoneah!_ _Monsieur Singer!_ " The voice of Gwydion was louder now that the male seems to be in the possession of Sam's phone.

Velvety and rich at the same time. His voice reminded Bobby of those old films gentleman character that turned out to be some sort of big shot noble in the climax of the movie or the end-game villain.

" _Hey!_ " Sam said indignantly. 

"Gwydion, right? What the hell is going on!?"

" _Oui, mon cheri. C'est moi, Gwydion. But I am afraid we do not have time to discuss the pleasantries nor have a proper introduction at the moment._ " To prove his point, the witch gave a grunt as he murmured an incantation. With a shout, Bobby could hear something explode just off to the side. Bobby made a disgusted face at the squishy, wet noises that indicated that there would definitely be a mess of gory remains. " _These creatures aren't hard to defeat. However, there's just the one. And this one's_ _true form is invisible to the mortal eyes. But those who practiced magic can see them with ease! They'reewgh, ugly little creatures they are ~~-~~. From my eyes, this one is just... mutated, old lady bones. But it doesn't look like it would belong to a human. Très bizarre!_ "

"Bones?" Bobby said incredulously. "But it doesn't look like it belongs to a human?" This was not like anything that he has ever heard of before. Perhaps he has, but Bobby was too busy right now to recall. "What kinda bones? What does it look like exactly?" He asked, taking out some scrap paper and a pen to record potential useful details down. Because, at the time, the information was too vague for Bobby to have a possible lead on what it might be. It doesn't sound like any rugaru or shapeshifter.

" _Oui. T'is strange, non? This one's bones are pure white with two glowing red orbs for eyes. Very monstrous. Not a trace of dirt or anything! It doesn't look like it came from any cemetery or grave, either. Else it would be dirty or have vestiges of rotten body meat!_ "

"Pure white?"

" _Yes! As pale as a sheet. Also, it's smart! And it speaks in a language that I can't understand._ "

"What does it sound like to ya? Can you be more specific, if possible?"

" _Er, I can't say it's any form of Enochian or Celtic. However, the dialect does sounds familiar to what the people from the lands of Silk would speak! I'm just not sure which one! And as your boy says, it has quite the thirst for blood and flesh! Agh! Merde!_ "

Now that definitely strikes a bell. Land of Silk, huh? Bobby knew that he wouldn't be able to find any stuff on this thing in any of the European lore books. So with another swipe of his hand, the books slid themselves unceremoniously across the table and onto the ground to make way for the mythology in the regions of East Asia. 

_Bones... White Bones..._

_It's in fucking China._ Bobby winced, squeezing his eyes shut in brief exasperation. He might know Japan like the back of his hands, but China? China was nowhere near his comfort zone. Bobby knows a bit of Chinese, but he rarely has to deal with any of the happy inhabitants of the land of Silk. And those sons of bitches were not only violent, they were violent  _and_ intelligent.

> _' The White Bone Demon, also known as Ba Gu Jing, was an ancient demon in the Tang dynasty. It is a malevolent spirit that took a consciousness of its own, inhabiting the stark white bones of a virgin maiden. The Ba Gu Jing constantly thirsts for blood, for it lived on borrowed lives. Like all demons, it wishes to obtain immortality by consuming enough mortal flesh. It usually does so while cloaking itself in an illusion, causing others to perceive it differently so it could get closer to its victims. However, when the Ba Gu Jing set its sight on an ancient monk named Xuanzang, it was killed by his eldest disciple, Sun Wukong, the Monkey King that was also known as the Great Sage Equally Heaven. By seeing through its deceit and illusion, Sun Wukong strike its false bodies three times, thus, killing each of the illusion that it imitates. With the third body dead, the monster no longer has enough spiritual energy for it to sustain itself. Thus, marked the end of the great and malevolent White Bone Demon. '_

"Jesus fuck..." This was some serious shit that they found themselves in, and Bobby let out a shaky breath as he pinches the bridge of his nose together. "Alright, I know what you guys are dealing with now. And this is going to sound bad, but it's a demon. And no, not the ones we see every day. They're not Christian religion demons nor are related to anything Biblical." Bobby said as he continued to flip through the pages, hoping to see a way to deal with the current problem.

If Bobby's memories were still sharp, then the Tang dynasty was at 618–907, which was over thousands of years ago! They're dealing with some ancient shit, and if Bobby was not careful, his boys will possibly die. 

Not under his watch they won't.

" _What!?_ " Dean shouted, followed by sounds of gunshots. 

"It's not your typical demon because it's from bloody China. It should have been dead a long time ago!" Bobby exclaimed. "Why is it alive now?"

" _Je ne sais pas, cheri. But I do know that Tia Dalma is a messed up woman. Who knows what messed up things she did to get her hands on the ritual to resurrect this... abomination!_ " Gwydion said, making an indignant sound at something being torn apart. Probably the guy's clothes. " _Merde! It's Brunello Cucinelli, you asshole! A-ah, please, Robert. Please tell me that you have a way to stop this thing before it tore all of my clothes to shreds!_ " Gwydion said dejectedly and mournfully.

_Robert? Sounds strange when someone else says it._ Bobby thought with an amused chuckle. He was wondering what was the deal about 'cheri', too, but he didn't comment on it and swept it aside when his eyes saw exactly what he needed to see. Though, before he gave them a confirmation, Bobby then felt compelled to ask the witch a sarcastic question.

"Yer about to die and all you're worried about is yer damn suit?" Snorted the hunter. 

" _Mon cheri, it costs over five grands. I'd rather die._ "

Five grands? This guy was stacked!

" _Dude, then die!_ We _want to live, thank you very much!_ " Dean yelled through the phone as Sam shouted for the older Winchester to keep it moving. 

"Well, yer don't have to worry about that. I found y'all a solution." Bobby said as he tapped his finger twice on a specific line in the texts of the page. "Alright, firstly, this thing apparently hates anything circular. Draw yourself a large circle with paint made out of pure gold dust and step inside it. It's gonna keep ya safe for a while. It's the same way of how Sun Wukong kept his teacher safe from the Ba Gu Jing thousands of years ago." _Even if the protection granted didn't last very long because Xuangzang was a really infuriating and dumb guy that did some stupid stuff._ Bobby felt compelled to say but didn't add.

"Different method and circumstances back then, but y'know? Tomato tomahto. We're just gonna have to make do with what we got."

" _Dean Winchester, I suggest we do as he says! Here's some gold paint! Allez!_ " Gwydion exclaimed. " _Oh, and here are some paint rollers!_ " 

" _Dude, where do you even get this stuff from!? Nevermind, I don't want to know._ " Dean asked with caution and curiosity but does as he was told to without complaints. " _Just probably witch mojo and voodoo crap, anyway._ " After a while, Bobby couldn't hear the screeching of the monster anymore, so he assumed that they have done what he said they should. With a flip of a page, Bobby then scanned through the texts, quickly identified what he was looking for. The older hunter then gave a humorous smile at a very detailed and quite beautiful drawing of the immortal.  

_The Chinese and their fancy Gods_... Bobby chuckled. 

"Y'all good now?" Asked the hunter for the sake of confirmation.

" _Yeah, we're good, Bobby. Thank you._ " Sam said with a genuinely grateful voice, and Bobby could hear him smile through the phone when he let out a breath of relief. " _So, how do we kill this thing?_ "

"Since Sun Wukong, the Monkey King, was the entity that was responsible for its extinction thousands of years ago. If you could find a monkey somewhere, the Ba Gu Jing will crap itself to death upon seeing the symbol of its downfall."

" _Is that the only solution? Where the hell are we supposed to find a monkey!?_ " Dean shouted, his voice loud in Bobby's ears as the older hunter winced. Apparently, Dean has gotten a hold of the phone now. And Bobby frowned and rolled his eyes at Dean's attitude.

"Boy, don't you shout at me. Or you can join old man John somewhere over the rainbow for all I care of."

" _Ok, ok, I'm sorry, Bobby. But is there any other way than pulling a Jungle Book outta our asses?_ " Dean said with a grunt. " _I don't think we can get a hold on a monkey at the moment. We're kinda in a hurry here._ "

"I mean there's you two, no need to look anywhere far." Bobby sassily added, mostly to tease his boys but also to lessen the tension somewhat. It drew a scoff from Dean and am amused laugh from Sam. "Alright. There are two other solutions: The first one is killing the Ba Gu Jing by hitting it thrice in the melon with the weapon that killed it in the first place. The second being summoning Sun Wukong himself. Which I don't think you guys can do, since he's in either China or India, and he is a Chinese Deity; a Buddha. Plus, I don't have any idea what the ingredient for summoning him is. Bananas might be involved, but I don't want to risk angering a God."

" _So what is this weapon? Can we obtain it right now?_ " Sam asked.

"The weapon is Sun Wukong's Ruyi Jingu Bang. It's this golden Bo Staff, he used it himself to kill the Demon. But the catch is that it's with him, shrunk to the size of a needle and tucked away in between his ears until the guy's got the need to use it." After a small pause, Bobby then smirked. "You kids sure you can't rob the local zoo for a monkey or two? If you put it back afterward, no one's gonna notice a thing."

" _...We're doomed._ " Sam sighed but it was quickly followed by a soft chuckle. " _Hey Gwydion, do you by any chance have a way of summoning the Monkey King?_ "

" _I don't, Sam Winchester. However._ " Gwydion said, and there was a pause as something was happening. Bobby wasn't sure what, but the Winchester brothers seems to be making noises of shock and relief at the same time. " _My contacts did give me a golden pin about a few weeks ago. Told me to keep it hidden away. I didn't know what it is, but I thought it looked good as a decorative piece. Turns out that it belonged to someone important._ " The male chuckled delightfully. " _Someone like the Monkey King himself._ "

"Well, I'll be damned." The hunter scoffed with slight disbelief, but also slightly impressed at the fact that the witch just happens to have the right tool for the job just coincidentally.

" _I actually just found out yesterday. I don't know what it does and I have no idea what to do with it, but it's a pretty little thing. Can't just throw it away._ " Gwydion said nonchalantly.

" _Bro, I'm pretty sure this is why you're on everyone's hit list. 'Cause ya made friends with their enemies and do shit like this._ " Dean sighed, but there was less wariness in his voice now that they have what they need. " _So, Bobby. What the hell are we supposed to do with a pin? You telling me that King Kong there killed this monster with a needle shorter than my last relationship?_ " 

"Nah, son. That's ridiculous. Everything is longer than the duration of your relationships." Bobby said with a smirk at Sam and Gwydion's laughter and Dean's irritated scolding of his younger brother. "You will need to recite an incantation that will enlarge the weapon to the appropriate size for mortals. When done right, it should be roughly the size of a regular poleaxe or a spear."

" _Appropriate size for mortals?_ " The witch said with curiosity. " _What do you mean? Expliquez, s'il vous plaît._ "

"Well." Bobby began. "Sun Wukong is an immortal _trickster_ God, or he used to be one before he transcended into the 鬥戰勝佛 or Victorious Fighting Buddha. The guy has tons of tricks up his sleeves. One of it is changing his size at will. He could make himself the size of the Eiffel Tower if he wanted. His weapon can do the same thing. If you messed up the incantation, it could potentially grow infinitely and crush you in the process along with destroying everything in its path."

"... _Geez, that makes us feel so much better, Bobby'o._ " Dean said sarcastically, compelling for Bobby to smirk with the same amount of amusement. " _Alright. Give us the spell, incantation, whatever. We'll take it from here._ "

"Ya sure? Knowing you boys, you'll probably die before I can even finish giving it to you."

" _Don't worry, cheri! I'll protect them!_ " Gwydion exclaimed. For a witch, the guy's pretty enthusiastic to help a bunch of hunters. But it was probably because his own ass was on the line, too.

" _You? We're the ones protecting you, asshat._ " Dean mumbled. Gwydion then gave him an incredulous scoff of disbelief.

" _That's what you were hired to do. But throughout this entire escapade, the only people that actually needed protection was you two. Stupid, pathetic, frail humans. Me and your lovely friend Robert was the only ones doing real and useful work this entire time._ " 

" _What was that, you son of a._ "

" _You can give us the spell, Bobby. We'll be fine._ " Sam reassured. " _Are you sure that it is all we need to do?_ "

"Yeah, son. I'm sure. Are ya doubting this old man?" Bobby chuckled but gave the book another look-over once again just to be safe. Bobby's Mandarin skill was a bit rusty, but the book wasn't written in language too old and outdated for Bobby to understand. There wouldn't be a problem for them if they did everything correctly. Unless Sun Wukong himself showed up to take back his weapon, then there wouldn't be anything for them to worry about.

" _No, Bobby. Never. So, what is this spell?_ "

"It's not long, but it needs to be repeated for a certain amount. Plus, it's in Chinese. So I'm gonna send it to ya through yer 'iPhone' along with the pronunciations." Said the older hunter as he scribbled his instructions down on a small note. Opening his drawer, he took out the 'iPhone' that Sam and Dean gave him last year as he then unlocked the screen. "...Uh, Sam?"

" _Yeah?_ "

"How... do you take a picture with this damn thing?" Bobby asked with slight embarrassment. He knew Sam was smiling on the other line, but the younger Winchester chose not to mock Bobby on his lack of knowledge in technology, which he was grateful for.

" _Just swipe from the bottom of the phone up, then you tap on the camera_ _icon_." Sam said patiently and without any sarcasm or smugness in his voice. " _You_ _got it? Is there anything else you need?_ "

"No, Sam. Thanks. I got it. Aaaaaand... there you go. It's done."

" _I saw it_ _, Bobby! Thank you! You're the best._ "

"Don't I know it." Laughed the hunter. "Now, make sure you say is as carefully as possible. It's alright to take it slow, just don't mess it up, you got it, son?"

" _Got it, dad._ "

Both Bobby and Sam froze at that, and it took a while before either of them said anything further. Bobby felt choked up, and the hand holding the phone was trembling so much that he thought he would have dropped it at any given time. There was this weird fluttering feeling in his stomach, and Bobby wasn't sure if that was the impulse to throw up or something else. With a shaky exhale, Bobby took his cap off of his head and ran a hand through his hair. 

"...Hey, Sam. Don't start a chick flick moment on me now, son. You've got everything you need, go." Before Bobby hangs up or gave Sam the chance to do so, the older hunter then smiled as he spoke softly through the phone. "Good luck, son. It's make your daddy proud time. Though, I'm always proud of you boys. So just do your best." Bobby then heard Sam's soft chuckle as the younger Winchester then replied with an equally soft voice.

" _We'll try to... dad._ " Sam said. Before either Bobby or the younger Winchester disconnected the call, the hunter could hear Gwydion cooing and making noises at Sam accompanied by Dean's baffled voice.

" _Awww! Comme c'est mignon! Tell Robert I said goodbye!_ "

" _Don't 'awww' him! Sam, what was that about!?_ "

" _Dude, I-_ _I don't know where it came from. But Bobby was cool with it!_ "

" _He was...?_ "

" _Yeah! I don't know about you, but it feels good saying it..._ "

And with that, the call was disconnected.

Bobby let out a breath he didn't know he was holding as he collapsed back onto his chair. The elder hunter stared up at the ceiling and sighed out heavily. 

_Dad, huh?_ Bobby chuckled warmly. It does have a nice ring to it... Besides, Bobby has been looking after those two like his own sons for a long time now. It wasn't even remotely cheesy or weird when Sam has called him 'dad'. It sounded oddly... natural, and not forced like those chick flick moments in those movies that he was partly forced to watch with Dean. And Bobby can definitely get used to that.

He then realized that he was still smiling, and he couldn't get it off of his face. And he also realized how exhausted he was when a wave of fatigue hits him. He was hungry, he was sleepy, and he really didn't feel like getting up from the chair he was planted in. Bobby then closes his eyes, hoping that sleep will overtake him. It wasn't that hard to do, he was already dozing off ten seconds after his eyes were shut tight. 

Before Bobby could sink into dreamland, he thought of his boys, how they'll come back home with big smiles on their faces as they bragged about their victory. And he thought of that bottle of Glencraig that he will probably be getting if Gwydion held up on his end of the bargain. He then thought about Crowley's look of surprise to see that Bobby has gotten a hold of some actually decent alcohol that won't burn a hole through his gut. The hunter thought about how his house won't be so quiet anymore. Instead, there'll be constant chatter from his boys as they boasted about their recent feat. There'll be laughter and sarcastic remarks as they cracked open that new bottle of fancy wine and share it together over crappy reality TV shows. Maybe Crowley can fit in the picture somewhere, but not before going through Sam and Dean. They've been protective of him ever since the soul ordeal, and Crowley's not gonna be able to come five feet near Bobby without getting some sort of intervention from the boys. 

Bobby smiled warmly and tiredly as his consciousness then drifts away. If he was lucky, he'll sleep for a whole day straight and wakes up to Dean and Sam already moving about in his living room. If not, he can wait for his boys. He knows they'll come back home.

The hunter gave out a snort of amusement, his back putting all of his weight on the chair as his vision then blacked out.

He really can't wait to get his hands on that bottle of Scotch.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sun Wukong art belongs to its respective owner  
> Crobby art was made by the lovely gorlassar on tumblr! Please check her work out! Permission was granted to use picture.  
> Please leave a feedback, it's my first Supernatural fanfiction! I'll greatly appreciate it.


	2. In Which Bobby Receives Gratitude and Appreciation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unlikely frenemy caused a few unspoken issues to be brought up. Bobby receives the attention and thanks that was long due.

Bobby woke up abruptly from his dreamless sleep, feeling oddly... relaxed. Comfortable. A bit sleepy, but still, that's just how everyone wakes up in the morning. The hunter took a few moments to get his bearings before blinking a few times to clear the grogginess away. With a yawn and a stretch of his arms, the hunter smacked his lips together a few times before sleepily looked around.

He blinked again and wiped at his eyes. He was in his bed? The hunter could have sworn that he feel asleep downstairs on top of his chair. How the hell did he get here? Unless Bobby have actually walked himself upstairs and have forgotten about it... Is his memories getting jacked up already? He wasn't that old, was he? Bobby shook his head and sighed tiredly. He just want to collapse back onto his bed and sleep on for about three more hours. However, that was probably impossible to do now that Bobby was becoming wary of the mysterious occurrence and because he was now wide awake. The hunter was still wondering why and how did he got onto the bed, of course. But he didn't really cared at the moment. Bobby took a few whiffs of the air, and cringed a little at some unpleasant smell.

He actually haven't showered for a few days.

He felt gross, disgusting, and sticky. His breath probably smells bad too.

Bobby got off of the bed with a grunt and headed straight for the bathroom. After taking a very satisfying but long piss, he then came to the sink and turned on the faucets. The steam rises from the hot water, fogging the mirror sitting atop of the sink. Bobby quickly washed his face with the warm water and picked up a toothbrush as he then began cleaning his teeth.

 _Spearmint. Thanks, Sam._ Bobby chuckled when noticed that his breath smelled so good and made him feel so fresh that Bobby felt like he was goddamn Johnny Cash. Putting the toothbrush away and shutting off the sink's faucets, the hunter stripped his clothes off and turned on moderately warm water. While a hot shower sounds good at the moment, Bobby didn't want to waste the electricity bill. Plus, if the water was too comfortable, Bobby'll fall asleep and bang his head somewhere in the shower and then kick the bucket. If he dies from that, he wouldn't want Sam and Dean to find him dead _harharhar_ naked like a newborn fresh out of the womb.

Bobby left the shower feeling like he just got baptized in Holy Water. It felt damn good. He now understood why women are so fascinated with taking long showers. And he wondered why he doesn't do this more often. But then again, he does have bills to pay at the end of the day. Maybe Bobby'll take those long bath using those weird colorful bath balls... globe... thing that smells really good that Sam bought him a while ago as a 'treat yourself day' kinda thing. One day. Not today, though.

He decided to ditch the hat today and combed his hair back instead. His hair was still wet, and Bobby don't like damp and wet ball-cap sitting on his head for two over two hours. After freshening himself up and wrapping a towel around himself, Bobby bend down and took the clothes on the floor in his hands and dropped them into the basket of dirty clothes that are scheduled to be washed on Saturday. Walking out of his door, Bobby opened his wardrobe, looked inside, and reached for the first thing that he saw along with a pair of coal-colored khakis.

He snorted when he flipped the black tee shirt that he grabbed around and saw its printing. 

'MALE LESBIAN' were the two words that was smacked right across the front that sticks out like a sore thumb. Bobby had to let out a humorous chuckle when he examined it. Dean gave it to him as a joke for Christmas about six years ago or something like that. But little does he know, the shirt's materials were cashmere, and it was some of the most comfortable shirt he own. Though, Bobby only worn it once in that year's winter, and hadn't touched it ever since. The design threw him off a bit. But now that he think about it, it was pretty damn funny. 

"Fuck it." He scoffs, removing the towel that was wrapped around him and quickly dressing himself up. Bobby considered wearing a belt, but he shrugged it off since he didn't want to come back in the closet to look for one. Plus, the khaki was a perfect fit that squeezed itself snugly around certain body parts... If he was honest, he felt like a damn stripper that doesn't wear revealing clothes while wearing these pants. He checked himself out in the mirror before opening the door to go back downstairs, and he coughed and blushed a little at the reflection that stared back at him. Bobby dressed as if he was fifteen years younger, and it was odd to see himself like that. 

But Bobby was a grown ass man, over half a century old! There ain't nothing to be embarrassed about! ...Is there? The hunter shook his head and decided to just go on with his day. This was his damn house. If someone's got something to say about it, they can talk to his shotguns. But then, there'd be only Bobby and himself; for now. Perhaps Dean and Sam will be coming back soon, he hoped. Or maybe they're home now?

His question was answered when he can hear faint chattering downstairs. Bobby's naturally paranoid instinct told him to go grab a weapon somewhere. But he could recognize the irritable voice of Dean and the awkwardness of Sam's softer one. When Bobby got out of the room, he raised his eyebrows in surprise. They were loud, and they were arguing about something. There was another voice that Bobby could recognize but the person whom it belongs to was not someone that Bobby would have expected.

 _Gwydion?_  

"Dude, you can leave now! I mean, thanks for getting us home and stuff but our business is done here!" That was Dean. And he sounded as irritated as the summer rash.

"The job is done, there's nothing else we owe you, right?" Sam awkwardly added, trying to sound as polite as possible. There was some uncomfortableness. And one could imagine Sam with his almost adorable little frown while he scratches the back of his head in confusion.

"Eurgh. You two are a bunch of ungrateful brats, you know that? No wonder Robert sounds so tired when he was talking through the phone." The voice laced with a light French accent said. Gwydion. What was the witch doing here?

"Wha. You're lucky that we haven't killed you already, dude. We're hunters. Not a lot of monsters that came across us lived to see another day. We haven't offed you yet, and you really should be thankful for that." Dean said dangerously. Perhaps the boy was squinting his eyes too. But Bobby wouldn't know. What the hell are they even going on about?

"Ooh! I'm so scared! I'm just quaking in my boots right now!" Gwydion said in a mocking voice. "In case you have forgotten, I am still a witch,  _imbéciles_! Lucky? Lucky my voluptuous ass. I could turn you into a pile of dog shit right now if I wanted. But then that's not what I do now, is it?" The man said with a humorless chuckle. "No! I chose to follow the alchemy and research side of the profession because I'm an actual decent person of the human species, for once! So, you can kiss my ample bottom because it seems to me that you're the lucky ones because I haven't cursed you yet!"

"...W-what's your point!? It doesn't matter if you're 'good' or not, you're still a witch. You have powers that can be use for something bad. Knowing your kind, who knows what you're up to when we're not around? Huh? A-and even if you're telling the truth, both our problems are gone and dealt with! So why are you still here!?" Dean sounded unsure of his own words, but continued to back his own argument up with a firm and resolute voice. Bobby slowly and quietly walked onward, ears perked to finally hear something juicy going on that wasn't related to anything supernatural. 

"Not to be ungrateful, Gwydion, but he's got a point. We killed Tia Dalma for you and you helped us get rid of a threat. That's all there is of our partnership, isn't it?" Sam added, hoping to minimize the effect of the harsh tone of his older brother.

" _Mon Dieu_." The witch said in exasperation. "'You have powers that can be use for bad bla bla bla'. Yes. Yes, I, do. I, however, chose _not_ to do so. Why? Because I hate attracting unwanted attention to myself. And because I have better things in life to do than to condemn people to an eternity in hell or limbo of wherever it is condemned souls go. Those are demons' job. Why make it easier for them?" The witch let out a dry laugh that was followed by a brief pause before he continued on speaking. 

"You two dunderheads think you're so special, aren't you?" Gwydion said, his voice low and mocking when he have said the previous sentence in a manner that resembled a parent cooing at their children. "I hate to break it to you, but you're really not! I don't care who you are or that you have prevented the damn Apocalypse. You're entitled to think that I'm here to bother you because of that and because you're such a national phenomenons, right? Well, guess what? It don't matter to me one bit. Because morons are still morons at the end of the day. And I don't have time to deal with the likes of you." 

Bobby raised his eyebrows for a brief moment before shrugging his shoulders and continuing on his way. Moron was a bit harsh, but the guy made a clearly strong argument that was supported by his colorful choice of vocabulary. 

"The likes of me!? I'm a normal person, not freak-shows like you that do all that voodoo witchcraft stuff, stuff that's not _normal_! You think I'm just gonna stand here and let you talk shi?"

"How did you know we prevented the Apocalypse? It's a pretty hush-hush business..." Sam interrupted Dean who was about to unleash a barrage of colorful curse words of his own. Dean gave Sam an annoyed sound, but it must have been ignored by the taller Winchester.

"I have my connections. How did you think I, a witch, would want to have anything to deal with the Winchesters in the first place? I wouldn't have looked for you if I don't don't know you. If I was ignorant of that information, why would I seek for the help of a pair of random hunters that just happens to be in town? And did you think i came to you by mere coincidence? I know who you are. That's why I turned to you two for help. I thought you would lend a hand to those in need, so to you I came. But apparently, the big bad Winchesters are just a pair of difficult and stubborn moron that takes their luck for granted." Gwydion said in a bored and defeated tone. "Well, I guess you're a bit more pleasant to be around, Sam Winchester. You did good work back there. Your brother, however..."

"Thanks?" Sam chuckled with slight embarrassment and confusion, Bobby could imagine him scratching the back of his neck f. 

"Oh really? If I'm so difficult to like then why don't you just leave!?" Dean said, voice rising by the minute. The boy sounded like he was going to snap at any moment, and Bobby admired the witch's resilience and stubbornness that could rivaled Dean's own. 

"Because, _Monsieur Winchester_ , the only reason why I'm still here is because I wanted to thank the man who saved my life in person. Unlike you, Mr. Singer actually managed to do something useful instead of constantly complaining and yelling at me. And unlike you, I know how to be grateful. Poor Robert. He have to deal with idiots like you everyday. Must have been taking a toll on him, poor man passed out on the chair, not even bothered to take off his coat." 

The hunter felt giddy and flattered by the witch's words, his cheeks had a slight blush to them. _Golly._ It wasn't often that people spoke of him highly, and he had this silly smile on his face before a thought came to him. When it occurred, Bobby raised his eyebrows once again in surprise. They found him asleep on the chair? Then that explains why he woke up on his bed. One of them must have taken him there. But how did they managed to do that without waking Bobby, the most paranoid bastard in the world, up? The smallest noise and touch could cause Bobby to wake abruptly from his sleep, no matter how deep. He was sure that even if he ended up in a comma, he'll wake up because of a fly that has too much freedom to make annoying, buzzing sounds. 

"What he does is none of your business, and you don't know anything about what he do everyday. So stop talking like you know everything and shut your pie-hole. And he goes by Bobby, not freaking 'Robert'."

"Hnn. Robert  _is_ his name, as far as I'm concerned. What I called others is none of  _your_ business. And so far, he hasn't told me to call him otherwise. So sod off. _Pute_. _Va te faire foutre._ " Bobby almost sputtered and laughed out loud when the witch said something in French that Dean would definitely not like. This guy... Bobby know that he shouldn't, but he thinks that this guy was great; fantastic, even. The wide range of insults only added to the icing on the cake. Was this guy really a witch? Or just a very sassy Frenchmen that happens to be over five hundred years old? 

"Stop speaking in freaking French when you goddamn know I can't understand it!"

"Well, then I guess that just adds to the list of things that you needed to learn, wouldn't it?" Laughed the witch with a triumphant and delighted tone.

"You mother!" Dean shouted, and Bobby mournfully and involuntarily speed up his pace as he then reached the stairway railings. He could've lingered a bit longer until the actual good stuff happens, but in this case, some heads will probably roll. And these damn idjits ain't about to stain _his_ carpet with their stupid blood. 

"Okay, okay. Stop. You guys are too noisy, you might." The younger Winchester said softly, but his attempt at quelling down the situation before it could escalated wasn't very effective. 

"Shut up Sam!" Fumed the older Winchester. There was a few seconds of dead silence in the room. And Bobby knew that Sam was giving Dean one of his looks when the elder Winchester gave out a sigh of defeat. "What?"

"...You might wake Bobby up. I'm just saying. If you guys keep arguing Bobby'll be up all grumpy-like. Dean, you know it's not very pleasant." Bobby rolled his eyes at that, but he knew that it was the truth, anyway. "And plus, he deserves some rest, you know? Knowing Bobby, his sleeping schedule must have been nonexistent." 

"...When you put it that way, I suppose I can cease roasting your brothers with educated facts for a while." 

"Fine. But know that he's not welcomed nor belonged here."

" _Je t'emmerde_ , Winchester. This is not your house. You do not tell me where I belong, _c_ _hild_. Now shush, your daddy is sleeping." The witch said dismissively. Bobby crossed his arms together when he was standing at the top of the stairwell, and he gave out a soft sigh and shook his head with the smallest of smile. Leave it to Sam to be the peacemaker. The younger Winchester took notice of his appearance, and his face lit up as he stood up straight and waved a hand at the older hunter.

"Well, not anymore. Bobby, hey!" Sam exclaimed, turning the other two's attention momentarily away from each other and focusing on Bobby descending down the stairs instead. Bobby noticed the fact that neither Sam nor Dean has said anything about that 'daddy' statement. And something in his heart grew warm at that thought.

"Hey Sam. What time is it? Why are there people bickering in my house?" Bobby said in a low grumble, pretending that he only heard the last bits of the conversation that went on between the three; mostly Dean and Gwydion, though. 

"It's about six AM, Eastern Standard Time. I do sincerely apologize for interrupting your beauty sleep, _cheri_." Gwydion said with a sheepish and apologetic smile. 

When he heard Gwydion's voice, Bobby decided to take one close and hard look at the witch, and he honestly didn't know what he was expecting. Maybe an older man in his fifties that had graying hair, adorned with some sort of beard of stubble; like George Clooney or Sylvester Stallone, maybe. But what he saw was completely different than what he thought the man would look like. Gwydion didn't look like he was any older than thirty five. His wavy, slicked-back hair was a chocolate brown color that goes well with his grayish blue eyes. And he had a smile that would surely swoon most women and certainly men as well. The witch was also taller than dean, but perhaps a few centimeters shorter than Sam himself. For a man over five hundred years old, the witch was definitely easy on the eye. Bobby didn't know what he was expecting, but the male's appearance did not disappoint. 

He does, however, wonder what was the deal about people with accents in expensive suits? Was that the one that got ruined but fixed? Or was it a completely different one? He could just pulled it out of thin air like he did the other stuff and no one would've known.      

"It ain't much 'beauty' going on. Just mostly sleep. But it's a nice sleep, I guess." He shrugged. "Hey Sam, Dean, were you two the ones that got me onto the bed? Thanks for that, boys. My back has been killing me for a while."

"...It wasn't us who got you onto your bed." Dean mumbled as Gwydion spread his arms out widely with a grin. 

" _Voila! C'est_ _moi!_ " The witch said in a sing-song voice, curtsied a bow at Bobby with a hand to his stomach and another extends out to the side. "You're most certainly welcome,  _Monsieur_ Singer. _Comment allez-vous_?" Asked the witch genuinely. Bobby almost did not answer him, he had no reason to, after all. He didn't know this man, and Dean and Sam didn't seemed to trust Gwydion either. But he wasn't a rude bastard, and Gwydion's bright expectant smile made the hunter sighed internally in defeat. Witch or not, the male has manners. It's only fair if Bobby answered the witch's courtesy with his own.

"... _Pas mal. Mais ça pourrait aller mieux_."

"Awww,  _ne t'inquiètes pas! Tout va bien se passer. Vous êtes Robert Singer, après tout._ "

"...Uh,  _Merci?_ "

"Huh? What? ...Wait a minute. Bobby, you speak French? I didn't know that." Dean said with a baffled and surprised expression, drawing a snort out of Bobby in return.

"Yeah, boy. I know a bit of a lot of languages. French, 'm not good at it. But I ain't an uneducated idjit if that's what yer asking. If I know Chinese, Vietnamese, Japanese, German, Latin, Greek, Croatian, and a buncha other dead languages, I'll be damned if French is too much of a hassle to learn, even if it's just the basics." Shrugged Bobby, his voice nonchalant. There was the faintest trace of smugness on his face when Bobby gave Dean a small smile. And Gwydion glared at Dean with a triumphant look, his face had a small shit-eating smirk that said 'I told you so'.

"I rest my case, Dean Winchester."

"What, ya telling me you don't even know at least 'Bonjour' or 'Au revoir'?" Bobby snorted with an unimpressed face at Dean. The older Winchester made a pouty face at Bobby and frowned. It reminded Bobby of what a ten years old would do when they get all offended and stuff like that. It's adorable. 

"It's not like I ever have the chance or the reason to go over there. And if France's full of pompous assholes like this guy here, it gives me another reason to not learn the damn language." The elder Winchester said defensively.

"But Dean, it's always good to know more stuff. Don't you know French is the language of love? Chicks dig that, dude." Sam said with a small smile. 

"Listen to yer brother, Dean. Kid's got a point. They'll be all over ya the moment the word ' _Mademoiselle_ ' escaped yer mouth."

"It's popular with the gentlemen as well." Gwydion said with a mischievous and suggestive twinkle in his eyes as he looked at Bobby, which makes him a bit confused, uncomfortable, and slightly embarrassed. 

"Plus, think about Canada." Sam cheekily added.

"...Anyways. Bobby, tell him to leave." Dean persisted, shrugging off the other two and covering up the sudden interest in his tone with an annoyed face.

"Is there... any reason why he should?" Bobby asked. Dean looked at him like he have grown three heads and made an expression of utter confusion and shock.

"W-what? Bobby! He's a witch!" 

"And I'm an alcoholic. What's your point, Dean?" Sighed Bobby as he made his way past the trio and sat down on his sofa. Gwydion followed him, but he did not sat down. The witch stood behind the sofa Bobby was sitting on, and he didn't really know what the guy was up to. But he figured if the witch hasn't hexed them by now, then there was really nothing to get himself worked up about. He wasn't saying that Gwydion wasn't dangerous, but if he was up to something, then a lot more would have happened already. Dean and Sam maneuvered themselves to sit at the two couches that were in front of but were placed on either side of the sofa Bobby was occupying.

"He did pull your sorry Winchester asses out from the fire, didn't he? All of you would be dead if he didn't have an ace up his sleeve, right? At least... give him a thanks or something like that..." Bobby said quietly, his expression hard, his brows furrowing, and there were obvious fatigue and tiredness shown on his face. "Witch or not, you are still alive, and there was no other setbacks or any favor owed. It didn't cost you anything, _and_ he payed you for it. So suck, it, up." The hunter said gruffly. Bobby always make sure to give people the appreciation and gratitude that was due after they help him, because not a lot of people do that for him. Say thank you, that is. He understood the feeling. And he never want anyone to feel worthless or underappreciated for helping others. His contemplation left him quiet for a while, and Dean and Sam went quiet as well.

There was something lingering in the air around them, and they wasn't sure what. But it make the Winchester brothers oddly uncomfortable and guilty when Bobby's voice went uncharacteristically soft and weary. Well, not uncharacteristically. They've heard something akin to that before; on the day that Bobby asked them to help get his soul back. But that time, it was more gruff. And Bobby sounded so angry, so tired, so... _frustrated,_ that they hoped they never have to hear that tone coming from Bobby ever again. 

The silence were interrupted by a sudden yelp from Bobby, making both Sam and Dean jump in surprise and sudden alarm.

"AAH! What the h-hell!?"

"Why so tense,  _cheri_?" Gwydion chuckled softly, as he leaned his body down slightly with both his hands gripping Bobby on either side of his shoulders, moving back and forth slowly in deliberate movements.

"Dude! What the fuck are you doing!?" Dean yelled, fumbling and reaching hurriedly for any kind of gun in his pocket. Sam reached for his own guns too, but he was more keen on observing the French male before he does anything rash. Gwydion gave Dean a long, hard, and unimpressed stare before rolling his eyes exaggeratedly.

"I'm giving him a blow-job, obviously." Gwydion said mockingly, sneering at the older Winchester with an expression of utmost annoyance. "Put your toy guns down, you simpletons." Gwydion said, narrowing his eyes dangerously, which made Sam and Dean both flinched unwillingly as the guns in their hands vibrated uncontrollably for the briefest of moment. "I'm massaging him, you incompetent idiot. What does it look like I'm doing?"

"B-but why?" Sam asked with slightly flushed cheeks, but puts his gun down and away nonetheless. 

"A personal thank-you gift from me to your daddy, in addition of the Scotch you were talking about. Plus, he seemed so tense, I fear that his stress and tensions would manifest physically and attack us." Gwydion chuckled darkly, increasing the force of his grip on Bobby's shoulder a bit more, which made the older hunter grimace in discomfort for a few moments, but sighed out in relief not long after. 

"Uh..." Bobby began, trying to form some sort of comprehensible sentence, but he was so distracted by the skillful hands on his shoulders that all Bobby managed to say before he gave into the blissful feeling was something between a gibberish mumble and some weird mixture of English-Latin. Clearing his throat, he attempted to speak once more, but he gave out a soft groan when certain knots on his shoulder was being undone by the witch's magic fingers. Not literal magic fingers, he hoped. "'M... Thanks?"

"No, thank _you_ , Robert Singer. It's my... _pleasure_. Truly." Gwydion said quietly with a soft chuckle.

Despite being drowned in the overwhelming sensation he found himself in, Bobby was always coherent enough to pick up the suggestive and flirting undertone when someone is attempting it. Was Gwydion... flirting with Bobby? Or was he just genuinely being grateful? Bobby decided that it didn't really matter, because he has never been so relaxed before, and he ain't about to waste any moment of a free massage; he doubts he'll get free stuff like this all the time, so he's gonna make the most out of what he's getting.

Bobby finds himself getting sleepy, his body relaxed more and more with each of the witch's hand movements. And he wonder if it was magic that's making him sleepy, or because he hadn't receive treatments like this in decades. Either way, Bobby's eyes was closing itself. And he was feeling soft touches on his neck before it went back down to his shoulder blades. He tried to keep himself awake, he really did. But the hands on his shoulders wouldn't stop whatever it was that it was doing. And before he knew it, Bobby unknowingly and slowly began to doze himself off to sleep. But not before Gwydion said some strange but oddly comforting things to him.

"Sleep, Bobby. When you wake up, you'll be greeted by the smell of finely roasted Robusta coffee from Vietnamese soil. There'll be soft sounds of sizzling oil coming from the kitchen as the sweet and heavy aroma of your morning breakfast permeates the air. You'll taste the scent of carefully boiled linguine with thick and creamy Alfredo cooked to perfection. There'll be delicate, amazing, soft pasta with golden Alfredo sauce covered on top, with an added finishing touch of fresh parsley and green onions. You want to know the best part? You sons _will_ be the ones delivering you your breakfast-in-bed just like the good twerps they are."

Gwydion paused for a brief moment. Bobby didn't know what was going on, but perhaps the male was staring at the Winchester brothers. Last thing that Bobby saw before he dozed off for real was Sam and Dean squirming under Gwydion's scrutiny. The witch then resumed his lull, but a bit louder this time. Enough to let the Winchesters clearly hear what he was going to say next.

"Their daddy treats them well, hmm? Papa bear always has been and always will be looking after his cubs, right? Through thick and thin and through fire and water, yes? It's only _fair_ if they return his _love_ in the simplest form, _non_?" Gwydion cooed. There was brief disappointment and scorn mixed in his voice. But with the way he was saying it, it wasn't directed at Bobby.

It startled him a bit. How Gwydion seems to know so much about Bobby's life while not directly insinuating anything specific. Bobby thought that he kept his personal life and details in strict check; including his own problems. But perhaps through strangers' eyes, it was probably obvious like an open book.  _God. I'm pathetic_. Bobby thought darkly. He didn't have a chance to continue that thought, because he was entering dream-land before he even knew it. The world fades to black, and the last thing he could remember was a tingling sensation on the side of his bearded cheek and soft murmurs that was getting louder and closer. 

"Sleep and think of nothing. Let peace be washed over you like the first gentle rain showers of September, like the waves of the sea crashing against the sandy shores. Be at ease, and no nightmare shall disturb your rest."

Gwydion's motions became less intense as he then muttered something that Bobby couldn't quite hear, but was able to feel its intentions. 

 

> " _Let thee be enveloped by the Rosemary's leaves_  
>  _For peace gentle's touch is with and surrounds thee._  
>  _Hawthorns, Roses, and Adder's Tongue;_  
>  _May the spirits of the Old Gods protect our blessed ones._  
>  _O' Woden, fair and almighty Lord,_  
>  _Grant our friends clarity of the mind._  
>  _Shield them from the evils of night,_  
>  _For creation is frail, but thy grace is our Light._
> 
> _In the[shadows](http://www.spellsofmagic.com/spells/spiritual_spells/protection_spells/3236/page.html), evils hide,_  
>  _Ready to draw him from love's side,_  
>  _but with your help he shall be strong,_  
>  _Banish all that do him wrong._  
>  _Send them away, send them astray_  
>  _Never again to pass his way._  
>  _So mote it be._ "

Bobby thought he smelled an earthy scent, mixed with a soft and aromatic touch. Like cool and refreshing citrus on a hot summer's day, or the spiciness and warmth of cinnamon on a cold winter's night. It also reminded him of a flickering flame on a small candle. Calming, gentle, soothing. The flames wasn't burning too overwhelmingly, nor was it a grand one that looked after hunters on their hunting trips in the wilderness. But its illumination was still a bright and comforting one that was gentler and softer. There were butterfly touches on Bobby's forehead. And the older hunter went out like a light. 

 _"Fais de beaux rêves, cheri._ "

* * *

"So. I'll be back in the morning to make food. You make sure to be here when he wakes up, _oui_?" Gwydion said with a small, polite smile.

"We don't need you to tell us to be here for Bobby, because we're gonna do it anyway..." Dean mumbles. The witch simply shrugs off the comment with one of his own.

"Yes, yes. Of course. And I'm Adolf Hitler's Jewish, black, blind, husband." Retorted the male, making Dean roll his eyes.

"What was all of that stuff at the end? Sounds like some witchcraft stuff to me." The eldest Winchester said with his arms crossed in front of his chest, ignoring the other male's sarcastic remarks.

"It sounds like witchcraft because I am a witch? Hello? Anyone home?" Gwydion said as he tapped Dean's forehead with his index finger's knuckle. The Winchester looked annoyed and a bit angry as he shoves the witch's hand off forcefully.

"Hey. Don't freaking touch me, bro!"

"...Hmph. Anyhow, I gave him a couple of blessings and some spells of protection. I am aware that your God is stronger than ours. But he's not exactly around now, is he?" Gwydion smirked, amused at the irony of the world. "Don't worry. I didn't sacrifice anyone. And before you ask, no. I have never sacrificed anyone before. The Old Gods are the sources of our powers, but we don't have to worship them. Like your God, for example. You exorcise demons and expel evil spirits using the name of 'The Lord Our Father', but it doesn't necessarily mean you live and die by the cross now, do you?"

Dean sighed but shook his head in agreement.

"Yeah. I guess you can say that."

"...Hey, if it's OK to ask, how do you know all these things about Bobby's life? You and he obviously don't know each other..." Sam said, moving the conversation somewhere else before it gets too awkward. 

"Sweetheart, I'm an empath and telepath; I read emotions and minds. A shame I can't manipulate it by touch just yet. I'm rather fond of your surrogate father. Poor man suffers and gives so much while receiving so little. You little twerps better get your priorities straight and be here for him more. His time _is_  limited, more so than yours. I hope you do understand that."

Sam and Dean both had uncomfortable looks on their faces at that statement as they both exchanged knowing looks. They knew that Gwydion was right. But to hear a stranger say it made it that much more real and harder to accept.

"Hmm... _Et si je_..." Gwydion contemplated as he placed a hand under his chin.

"Why are you making that face? Are you... are you planning something!?"

"I'm always planning something, but sorry to burst your bubble, Dean Winchester. I actually have another gift for him. But I want him to be awake for it. I'll be leaving now. Your money has been transferred to your accounts. And I'll bring you that Scotch when I return. A LaCroix always keeps up their end of the bargain. Don't miss me too much when I'm gone."

"Not a damn chance, freaking son of a bitch..."

"I never liked my mother. She was difficult at best and a whore at worst; never actually cared about anyone, and especially not I. So, _a_ _dieu,_ I'd like to say to you. But of course, that's not going to happen. I'll be back soon.Behave... _Please_." Gwydion said in a hushed tone, placing a finger on his lips as Bobby's soft snore rumbles out of his sleeping body. "Been a pleasure." With a curt bow, the witch waved his hand and turned around to begin his tread to the door.

"Wait. Gwydion." Sam said hurriedly, stopping the male from leaving through the living room's door. "Um... Sorry for being a bunch of assholes earlier..." He muttered, and Dean rolled his eyes with a silent scoff at his brother's apology. "And thanks. For protecting us from those monsters. And for what you're doing for Bobby. I... You're right. We're not there for him as much as he is there for us. And we don't actually know what the man's been dealing with every day either. This was a wake-up call. And I'm glad that you were the one who made it."

There was a moment of pause, then comes a pleased chuckle from the French male as he smiled. "...Mhmm. Better me than someone even more unlikable, right? You're most certainly welcome, Sam Winchester. But it's all for my personal interest, I can assure you. I'm not that much of an altruist, unlike your papi. But I do like him. So expect me back here by ten. Don't iron the door, or I'll hex it along with you two!  _Au revoir_!" Gwydion said, walking himself to the door with a small wave of his arm.

"Just go already, will ya?" Dean sighed. And in return, he received a middle finger from the witch with his back turned.

"... _Ciao_." Sam said with a smile, waving his hand at Gwydion when he could no longer see the witch after he left through the door. 

"Oh come on, Sam. Not you too!"

"Dean, it's Italian. Not French."

"...Shut up and get me some pie. And a beer. And some ice cream if he has any."

"Ok, Queen Elizabeth. Calm down, your highness. I'm gonna get you your food. Just don't pout too much. You'll scare Bobby when he wakes up."

"...Bitch." Dean huffs.

"Jerk." Smiled Sam.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gwydion's faceclaim picture is Ulliel Gaspard! For those who are interested, the picture I have there is my favorite of his. But if you want to find out more you can look him up! He's quite good looking :D  
> Thank you for those who have read. I appreciate the reviews, please keep them coming!


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